Tell Me Truly
by rachiixox
Summary: The new agent at the BAU is...off. How will the team accept her when she barely fits in? Meanwhile, she has ulterior motives for joining the team and the FBI. Will they be revealed? Case-fic and eventual Reid/OC. T, but maybe M later
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi! This is my first CM fic, but I've been around FF for quite awhile now. It's important to note that I'm planning for this story to go on for a long time, like 40+ chapters, with at least 2 major cases. You're in for a long ride, my friends. Also, *this is not a love-at-first-sight fic*! Honestly, I don't think it's possible. Infatuation, maybe, but not love. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds. Believe me, I've tried, but the CEO of CBS, Leslie Mooves, got a restraining order against me. But I have my ways….**

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_Bene Gesserit: "I must not fear. / Fear is the mind-killer. / Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. / I will face my fear. / I will permit it to pass over me and through me. / And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. / Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. / Only I will remain."_ – Litany Against Fear, _Dune_

...

If Adriana Messers didn't know better, she would say that the walls were glaring at her. Or at least staring judgmentally.

Agent Hotchner's walls were painted an inoffensive beige, but were crowded with framed diplomas, accolades, and articles. A large bookshelf crowded one corner of the room, lined neatly with volumes and journals on psychology and law and topics that made Adriana's head hurt. The wide desk seemed to distance her seat as far from her interviewer as possible, and the interviewer himself was wearing a severe expression.

All of it converged on her, sending a creeping sense of claustrophobia into her head. She tried to dispel her anxiety by subtly jiggling her legs, bouncing her knees, and balling her fists, but for the moment nothing could calm her.

Luckily, as soon as Agent Hotchner sat down behind his desk, his office phone rang. He answered it, and looked up at Adriana sitting nervously in front of him.

"Sorry, I have to take this in another office," he said, gesturing to the phone. "I'll be right back."

Adriana nodded mutely, hoping her supreme relief didn't show too obviously.

When Agent Hotchner left the room, Adriana let herself breathe deeply before her repressed thoughts exploded.

_I can't do this! I'm going to fail! He hates me! Why can't I do anything right? Why can't I stop wiggling?_

She looked in horror at her foot as it continued to shake in small spasms. Without thinking, she got up and shook herself out. Her limbs flailed wildly for a second, and Adriana prayed no one saw that. The room had blinds, but they were drawn up.

She had to stop being afraid. This was her only chance. This opportunity at the BAU was too good to pass up. It meant a chance in the one area she wanted to be in- finding people.

Still, the room was as small and impersonal as it was before. Her wide moss-colored eyes scanned the room feverishly for something to cling onto. Something to remind her that Agent Hotchner, this room, hell, even the FBI, was human.

It was so hard, though, when she remembered how the impassive agent walked in. He took purposeful, but not uncalculated, strides. He was one of those rare people, Adriana figured, who was both a thinker and a doer. Someone who made informed decisions, and acted on them decisively.

_God, if that's just how he walks... _

Adriana collapsed back onto the chair and was looking for any personal touch to comfort her when she spied a photo in the corner on the desk. It faced away from her, on the right-hand side. Near where someone sitting at the desk would be able to glance up at it every second.

Again without thinking, Adriana snatched the photo off the desk and looked at it eagerly.

It was a picture of Agent Hotchner, not in a pressed suit, but in a relaxed t-shirt, smiling and holding a boy around six years old. The boy was probably his son, but the resemblance wasn't with Agent Hotchner. _There's no wife in the picture_, Adriana noted. Still, the boy smiled brightly into the camera and held tight onto his dad.

Adriana smiled and replaced the picture in exactly the right place. _So he _does _have emotions_, she thought.

Suddenly, footsteps announced Agent Hotchner's return.

"Sorry about that," he said smoothly. He sat back down and looked directly at Adriana, probably profiling her every move.

"No problem, sir," she replied. The anxiety was worn away a little, but it returned when Agent Hotchner met her eyes directly.

Hotch took a moment to observe the young applicant. Physically, she seemed average. Average height, average brown hair, possibly below average weight (Hotch tread carefully around that area), small straight nose, and green eyes. But like every profiler, he took a closer look.

Her hair was pinned up carefully, meticulously even. Her heart-shaped face was flush with nervousness or excitement. Her eyes seemed to move rapidly, absorbing details in seconds. He saw a ring on her right index finger that clashed with everything she wore. And finally, he saw that her fidgeting made her almost lift out of the seat.

Mentally, she was far above average. Picking up her file, Hotch scanned her academic records. Born and raised in Virginia, honors-level classes before high school, full academic scholarship to Georgetown where she studied criminal law, psychology, and oddly enough, art history. Received majors in all three, and now working towards her doctorate in anthropology. At twenty-six. Her FBI entrance exams and profiling exams were almost as good as Reid's, but her marksmanship was definitely better than his. _Although that's not saying much_, Hotch chuckled inwardly.

Finally, he looked back up at Adriana where she was waiting for his analysis.

"You're coming from Missing Persons, correct?" Hotch started.

"Yes," she said.

"And why did you leave after less than a year there? I've heard you did fine work there," he added.

Adriana faltered for a moment, but quickly replied, "I feel that I can make a significant contribution to your team."

Hotch almost smirked at the age-old response. "Such as?" he asked further.

Adriana honestly didn't know what to say, and whenever that happened, she tended to ramble. "Well, my academic record speaks for itself. Also, I can speak several languages fluently, and my past experiences in Missing Persons has allowed me… acquaintance with behavioral patterns, where I had to employ profiling-techniques, and I've had experience with the press, and-"

"Agent Messers, stop," Hotch commanded. Adriana sank back in the chair. Her hopes were sinking quickly.

Hotch continued. "My team is already full of extremely competent profilers, one is a certified genius, and another can speak six languages. Your skills, as impressive as they are, aren't exactly selling points to me. What can _you_ bring to our team?"

Adriana stopped there. What _did_ she have left? She was very smart, spoke five languages, and could shoot well. But what else was there? There was only one thing she had left.

"My devotion," she blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Hotch asked, confused.

For the first time, Adriana looked him square in the face. "You will have my life. I don't know how to explain it, but I need to have this job. If I can't, I won't have anything left to work for, to achieve. If I get this job, you'll have everything I can give and more." Her words started strong, but she spoke quicker and quicker with growing dread.

She tried to keep from sounding desperate and over-dramatic, but that's exactly what she was. Her spirits were basically rock-bottom at this point.

Hotch was bowled over, her desperation not lost on him. He felt like denying her this job would be like sentencing her to death. He wondered if it was some kind of pity-ploy, but a quick scan of her expression revealed that she was deadly serious.

He stood up, and Adriana did the same.

Then Hotch simply said, "We'll be in touch."

Adriana nodded and nervously shook his hand. Her own was clammy and nearly shaking, but Agent Hotchner didn't seem to notice. He gestured towards the door, and Adriana gathered her things and left.

Hotch frowned when she left. She was one of the most qualified agents applying for JJ's spot, and there was no denying her…eagerness, but something about her unsettled him. He thought it was her youth. She was too young to be tying all her life to one thing. He needed to know if she was really ready for this.

He had an idea. Hotch called a familiar number on his cell phone, one that hadn't been used for awhile.

"Hello, JJ? Listen, I need a favor from you."

…..

Adriana barely walked out of the building later that day without collapsing. That interview was scary, but she'd done it, at least. Now all that was left was to wait for the call-

_Ring Ring Ring_

_Seriously?_ Adriana thought wildly. _They rejected me that quickly?_ Fumbling with her bag, she frantically looked for her phone. She found it, panicked, and held the cell phone without making a move to answer it.

_Ring Ring Ring_

With extreme trepidation, she flipped open the phone had held it to her ear.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hello," she heard, "This is Agent Jennifer Jareau."

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A/N: If you review, I'll give you a cookie! (and by cookie, I mean thanks)

Huge thanks to Nuwanda31 for reading this over and answering all my annoying questions and being so nice

FYI- My title comes from the Robert Frost poem "A Question"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: And now for the rest of the team… Sorry it's so short, but I'll have longer chapters soon. **

**Disclaimer: Leslie Moonves is really stubborn about that restraining order, but someday I shall own CM! Hahahaha!**

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"_Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." – _Ambrose Redmoon

...

"Everybody's already in the conference room, so you'll get to meet them all there."

Adriana nodded, barely hearing a word Agent Hotchner was telling her. She walked alongside him on their way through the "bullpen" and to the meeting room. Ever since she got the call informing her she'd gotten the job, the time after the shock had faded was full of more nervousness. Today, she would be meeting her teammates and receiving a case.

Still, she tried to hide it as best she could. Profilers are able to see through most any ruse, but Adriana plastered a fake smile of excitement anyways. Really, she wanted to throw up.

Agent Hotchner was still talking. What was he saying? Planes? Go-bags?

"You'll have to keep it at work always," he was saying.

"The go-bag?" Adriana asked dumbly.

"Yes. Now, any questions before you meet them?"

"Agent Hotchtner-"

"Hotch," he corrected.

"What?" she asked

"Everybody on the team calls me 'Hotch'."

"Hotch," she said, the name sounding weird in her mouth, "will they-" Adriana broke off when she realized how childish the question sounded. _Will they like me?_

"What?" Hotch asked, pausing right before the door.

She shook her head. "Nothing, sir- uh, Hotch." Hotch glanced at her curiously, but entered. Steeling her resolve one last time with a deep breath, Adriana entered the conference room with Hotch.

Hotch calmly walked in, leaving Adriana at the front of the room. Everybody instantly stopped talking and looked up at her. They hadn't heard anything about her, except that she was joining the team. Hotch took his usual seat by the monitor and then made introductions.

"Everyone, this is SSA Adriana Messers. She's coming to us from Missing Persons. She's twenty-six, and has majors in psychology and criminal law. Adriana, this is everybody."

Adriana forced herself to look up from her shoes and at the six members of the team. They all met her gaze, making her blush.

Hotch introduced them all in turn.

"This SSA David Rossi-"

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," Adriana interjected to the distinguished profiler. Rossi smiled and nodded at the compliment.

"This SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Emily Prentiss-" Adriana nodded in greeting at them, and they did the same.

"SSA Dr. Spencer Reid-"

"Wait, I know you," Adriana blurted out suddenly.

"You know me?" Reid blinked. A sudden, wild thought ran through his mind that she was another abnormal fan of his, like Professor Rothschild turned out to be.

"Yes," she answered, "I think I read a paper you published. It was called 'The Neogenin Intracellular Domain Regulates Gene Transciption via Nuclear Translocation', right?"

Reid was pretty surprised, but instead of responding cleverly, all he said was, "That's not a psychology paper. That's on molecular biology."

"I know it is," Adriana replied with a small smile. It was her first real smile of the day. "Uh, it was very interesting," she offered complimentarily. The team members just stared at her and a silence fell over them. Adriana felt the urge to stare at her feet again.

Luckily Hotch diffused the awkwardness by saying, "And that's our Tech Analyst Penelope Garcia."

Garcia smiled and waved at Adriana by waggling her fingers, making all the bracelets on her wrist jingle. Adriana was sort of bowled over by the amount of bright clothes on her. It was kind of blinding.

"That's everyone," Hotch concluded. "Is there anything you want to add, Agent Messers?"

"Actually yes," Adriana said, surprising herself. She saw all the team members eyeing her with interest, appraisal, and…distrust. She felt like she had to offer up something of herself.

Clearing her throat and holding her hands stiffly by her sides, she willed herself not to freak out. She said haltingly, "I don't want anyone to think I'm replacing Agent Jareau. I'm here as another profiler, not a press liaison. Because I've heard about what an outstanding agent she is, and I know I can't be anything like her, and I definitely can't replace her as your friend."

When no one said anything, she continued on nervously. "She called me, you know. When I got this job. She offered congratulations and told me I'd be working with the best team in the FBI and the best people in the world." Adriana smiled to herself as she recalled their conversation. "And I think it's impossible to replace a person like that."

She hazarded a peek at the team. Rossi, Hotch, and Reid looked somewhat surprised, as if they didn't expect her to say that. Morgan and Garcia smiled at her, and Prentiss peered at her curiously.

"Please sit," Hotch finally said.

Adriana sighed in silent relief, and slid into a chair between Garcia and Reid, keeping her eyes firmly on the table until a file was passed to her.

"Last week," Hotch started, "police in Minnesota found three mutilated bodies that were buried and posed. We weren't going to be called in before, but with the third body, it's officially a federal case."

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A/N: Beware! The next couple chapters will get pretty gory. Luckily this is not the actual show. Review if you don't mind creepy gore!

Nuwanda31- thanks x 10 million


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: And here you see my insanity that comes out in the form of scary murders. I wonder what Freud would say about that… (Whatever, screw him. Reid's smarter and cooler)**

**Disclaimer: I have kidnapped Leslie Moonves and am currently threatening her to give me CM. Any second now… **

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"_Every unpunished murder takes away something from the security of every man's life." –_Daniel Webster

...

Adriana's ears pricked up at the words _federal case_. Great. Her first case and it already had the potential for a spotlight on the evening news. _That can't be a good sign._

"Three bodies," Hotch was saying, "were found in around Bemidji, Minnesota. Two were found on the outskirts of town, and the third was found in Chippewa National Forest." He clicked a remote, and the large monitor near his head showed a disturbing image.

A young woman lay in the fetal position in a deep, circular grave. Her tan skin was dusted with dirt, and her clothes and dark hair caked with soil. Her hands, instead of being under her head as if sleeping, were placed criss-crossed across her chest. Adriana noticed a handbag and an ID card had been placed near her head; then she noticed something else. Blood stained the edges of the woman's shirt, and some seeped into the dirt by her body, making the earth darker and claylike. From the angle of the photo, Adriana couldn't make out what exactly caused that. She opened the case file and flipped to the coroner's report. What she read made her recoil in horror.

The woman's chest cavity had been split open. A long, jagged cut ran from her naval to throat, and her breastbone had cracked along with several ribs. When it seemed that it couldn't get any worse, Adriana read that her heart was torn out, and the inside of the chest showed evidence of burn marks. That struck something in Adriana, but as she was trying to figure out why the hell this mutilation would sound familiar, Hotch spoke again.

"This is the first victim, Amy Montez. She was found in a clearing just outside of Bemidji along with the second victim, Allie Phillips." He clicked again and another picture of a dead woman in exactly the same pose appeared. "Montez was killed around two weeks before Phillips."

"How'd they find the bodies?" Morgan asked.

"Hunting dogs," Hotch replied. "Some people from the town were heading into the forest when their dogs found them. The third victim, Kelly Davis," he clicked again, making another image of a woman in the same pose pop up, "was found in the National Forest two days ago when the police decided to do a search after she'd been gone missing for three days and after the first two were connected. She'd been killed approximately the day she went missing."

"How are the bodies of the first two victims so well preserved?" Reid asked.

"It's winter and the bodies were buried a foot underground," Hotch answered. "They froze."

Adriana allowed herself a small shudder before turning back to the file and scanning it again. The cooling off period was lessening, and the ferocity of the kills was gruesome, but somehow they didn't shock her. Something still felt familiar about it.

While she was ruminating on how weird that was, she heard a muffled whimper to the right of her. It was the tech girl, Penelope. She was staring at the images on the screen in abject horror. Adriana pitied her, remembering how it felt when she received cases almost as gruesome as this, back when she first joined the bureau. She felt like patting Penelope's arm or something, but drew back.

The rest didn't seem too fazed, but were looking at the case files with quizzical expressions.

"Wheels up in fifteen," Hotch informed the team. "I want to do this as quickly and quietly as possible, without grabbing any media attention." Everyone nodded, eager to be done with this case quickly too.

Adriana waited for the rest of the team to file out of the room before following them. She was not eager to get on the plane at all.

Suddenly, she felt someone tap her shoulder, nearly jumping as they did so. Adriana spun around and saw that it was the tech girl. In her bright pink dress patterned with black flowers, high heels, silver bangles, and matching black and pink glasses, she made Adriana double-take.

"Hi. Sorry. I just completely forgot to give you this," she said, handing Adriana a tablet computer. Adriana looked at it and wondered if there was some mistake.

"You're giving me this?" she asked in confusion. "I keep this?"

"Yep. Everyone on the team's got one. We're trying to cut back on paper." Her voice sounded too bright and cheery for someone who just saw several corpses and nearly cried over them. _Is she bipolar or something?_

"Ok. Um, thank you-"

"Garcia," she supplied.

"Garcia," Adriana said. "Does everyone here go by last name?" _Messers doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. . _

"Mostly. Except my darling Morgan. I call him 'dreamboat,' 'sexy,' 'angel,' stuff like that. Which reminds me-" she grinned, "paws off my man. Don't even think about it." Adriana detected playfulness in her flippant tone, but for some reason, she took everything as deadly serious.

"Got it," Adriana promised. "Absolutely." She paused. "Which one is Morgan, again?"

Garcia laughed heartily and pushed the baffled agent toward the exit. "Go, you'll keep them waiting!"

"You're staying? Do you do the tech stuff in an office?" Adriana asked.

"I prefer to think of it as a lair, actually."

"What? Wait, which one is Morgan?"

"Go!" Laughingly, Garcia pushed Adriana again, and this time she walked away.

...

Adriana breathlessly stepped into the plane, and immediately all eyes flew to her. It felt like high school all over again, in the way where deciding what seat to sit in is life-or-death important.

The plane seemed comfy enough, with two tables and several chairs and even a couch, but it seemed crowded to her though only seven people were currently in it. She moved cautiously to a window seat on the left side, hoping that she wasn't taking anyone's spot. She sank into the seat and prayed that she wouldn't freak out during takeoff. This day was just a series of events that were bound to end up in Adriana passing out.

"You were supposed to be here five minutes ago," Hotch said. "Did you get lost?"

Adriana grimaced. "A little," she admitted. Actually, after she spoke with Garcia, she took a wrong turn, got hopelessly lost in the one wing of the FBI Quantico building she had never been in, and ended up sprinting down a random hallway. Luckily, it led outside to the airstrip.

"Come on, Hotch," Prentiss protested. "It's her first day!" Adriana looked up, startled, but flashed a grateful look at her.

The plane's turbines suddenly roared to life, and everyone sat back in their seats. Taking calming breaths, Adriana looked out the window as the plane took off and saw the landscape grow smaller and smaller, until it disappeared altogether under a layer of cloud. Since she was a kid, it's been the only thing she enjoyed about plane rides.

While she was staring out the window, several people were watching and profiling her.

Morgan saw her unknowingly clench her fists as the plane ascended and how she frequently adjusted some article of her clothing. Her black pants had been picked of lint; her green shirt had been smoothed of all lines. This girl had "nervous" written all over her, but if Hotch picked her, she couldn't be just any newbie. Besides, Morgan admired her little speech about JJ. It took guts to admit that you can't fill someone's shoes. Especially someone as special as JJ.

As Prentiss watched her, memories about her own first day officially on the BAU team washed over her. The insecurity, the nervousness, all of it she understood. But what didn't understand was why this girl was so damn _jumpy_. She couldn't sit still at all, but Prentiss just attributed to her extreme anxiety. After all, now she was the youngest on the team with a large responsibility on her shoulders. Messers may not have taken JJ's job as "press-liaison," but it was understood on the team that she'd be the one to field that stuff now. How she was going to manage _that_ without going catatonic was something Prentiss wondered.

Reid looked at her curiously. He was still baffled that she'd read his paper. Not the fact that it was _his _paper, but the content of it. The content of the article was stuff only biology majors would understand. Was she lying, or was she just much smarter than she seemed? Reid didn't know how he felt about the presence of another genius, or at least another designated "smart person," on the team. It perplexed him almost as much as her little speech about JJ.

It was strange, but almost comforting. Reid missed JJ, no question about it. But someone had to step in eventually, right? That's what he told himself, but in reality, Reid would've never accepted someone coming in to fill in JJ's role. So when he heard that this agent, Missers or something, had felt the same, he couldn't bring himself to purposefully dislike her.

As soon as the plane righted itself, Morgan stood up and walked over to Adriana. He tapped her on the shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie and making her flinch. He leaned over to be at eye-level and said, "Hey, sorry, just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Derek Morgan." He actually wanted to ask "Are you ok?" but he figured he wouldn't get a truthful answer.

"You're Garcia's 'dreamboat'." Adriana stated.

Morgan laughed and said, "Yup, that's me. What can we call you?"

"My first or last name is fine."

"No nicknames?"

Adriana shook her head. Only her parents had used nicknames for her. Any use of her nickname brought up things she'd rather not think about.

"Well then," Morgan said, plopping himself down on the seat next to her, "that's Pretty Boy over there," he pointed at Reid, "and that's Princess," pointing at Prentiss.

Morgan's efforts were rewarded with the smallest of smiles and nods, but before he could go further, Hotch interrupted, saying, "Guys, we should look over the case now." He was impatient to hear Adriana's thoughts, keen to find out if she was as good as her test scores claimed her to be.

"Yeah, alright," Morgan sighed. He retrieved his case file, and the discussion began.

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A/N: Ok, it's going to get weirder from here. Just a warning. Review if you like tablet computers! (If not, review anyways)

Nuwanda31- Thanks x pi (Ah ha! See what I did there? A never-ending number!)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: And here we go…**

**Disclaimer: Leslie Moonves escaped my clutches! But I shall one day own CM!**

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"_Why are violence and the sacred so intertwined? Why is death seen as necessary to renew life?... For in the name of other ideals and other gods Western culture has been no less addicted to killing, even in our own century." _– Historian Michael Wood

_..._

_The case!_ Adriana thought hurriedly. She dived down and retrieved her file. Quickly scanning it once more, she looked for any reason why the strange and horrifying signature felt familiar to her.

"Well, the unsub obviously experiences moments of violent rage." Morgan said. "Maybe he's gone through a crisis."

"But the victims," Prentiss said, "Are they connected or opportunistic?"

"We'll work victimology later," ordered Hotch. "Right now, let's focus on the kills."

"Hello, my duckies!" a voice thrilled. Adriana looked around, bewildered, searching for its source. She realized with a start that it was Garcia's voice coming through a computer. Her smiling face beamed at them all on its monitor.

"Hey, babygirl," Morgan said. "Got anything for us?"

Adriana had to resist the urge to raise her eyebrows. _Babygirl?_

"Only that the three victims were completely unconnected. No schools, no youth groups, no prior arrests. Nada. Just normal girls." As she spoke, Adriana could hear the steady clicking of a keyboard. "I'll keep you posted if anything else crops up."

"Thanks, doll," Morgan said. Hotch was about to switch off the computer when Garcia called, "Wait wait wait!"

"What is it, Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"Did you guys wait for Agent Messers? She isn't there." Her eyes widened accusingly and she said, "Oh my god, you left without her, didn't you? You can't just do that, you know! God, you people think you're so- She probably got lost somewhere and- oh! I pushed her in the wrong direction! Do you think she's still here? Maybe I can-"

"Garcia," Hotch cut in, "Agent Messers is right here. See?" He leaned back, and Garcia saw Adriana sitting in the seat across from him.

"Oh… Hi!" Garcia waved, but before she could say anything else, Hotch quickly switched off the monitor.

Prentiss smirked, but she forced it off her face to remark, "What I don't get about this unsub is how he came up with the idea to open the victims' chests. What's the significance in that?"

Rossi leaned back in his seat, frowning at the coroner's report he was reading. "Well, whoever did it did it sloppily. It's probable that these were his first victims. I mean, the level of uncontrolled overkill-"

"It's not overkill," Adriana interrupted, eyes widening as the realization hit her. Rossi's words triggered a wave of thoughts. _Of course! The overkill isn't overkill __at all. It's practically modest compared to the precedent. _

"It's not?" Rossi asked incredulously.

"No, it's not," she said. "I've seen this before." Her eyes darted all over the case-file and she started mumbling to herself, "But it's all wrong. The calendars, the victims, the staging…"

"You've _seen _this before?" Morgan asked. When she didn't respond, he said "Messers?" and was about to snap his fingers in Adriana's face to get her attention when she looked up and saw everybody waiting for her answer.

"It's been done before," she explained, "these rituals. They were done centuries ago. These murders are based on Mesoamerican death rituals."

Everyone stared at her silently, but she continued explaining. "The murders themselves are exactly like the Aztec sacrifices to Huitzilopochtli, the god of war and the sun. They follow the exact same pattern. The burials, however, are just like the way the Inca in Peru buried their dead: in the ground, in fetal positions, with personal effects surrounding them."

"So all of this is rituals?" Prentiss asked, disbelievingly. "Even the part about burning the chest after they cut out the heart?" Prentiss had seen much since she had joined to the BAU, but this case was hard for her to take in.

"Especially that," Adriana answered. "The Aztecs believed only blood sacrifices would appease and strengthen their gods, and after they eviscerated the sacrificial victim with an obsidian or flint blade and removed the heart, they would light a fire in the chest cavity that would be used to light other torches. It was called the New Fire Ceremony. The burn marks show that the unsub tried to do the same."

The team sat quietly for a moment, digesting what Adriana had said, and then Hotch turned to Reid and asked, "Reid is this possible?"

Reid's forehead creased as he thought about it. Adriana silently prayed that he, or any of the others, wouldn't think she's crazy, but she was sure of her theory. Reid said, "It's possible, but those sacrificial rituals follow strict guidelines and calendars. Anyone who's studied the Aztecs knows that."

"So it could be a big coincidence?" Morgan put in.

"It can't be," Adriana argued. "It's too close a correlation. Besides, anyone with an internet connection can just google "sacrifice rituals" and choose the most violent and painful method they can find. They don't have to know a thing about the Aztec calendar system."

"And the way he buried them? That's also copied?" Rossi asked skeptically. He still wasn't sold on her theory; it just sounded too convenient.

"Yes, it is, but not perfectly copied. The unsub is using a ritual meant for Inca peasantry. The royalty would traditionally be embalmed and mummified. The commoners would be put in their best clothes and thrown into a convenient hole."

"So he's identifying his victims as commoners, as unimportant," Hotch said. Before he let this idea go further, he peered intensely into Adriana's face and said, "Messers, are you sure about this?"

"Positive," Adriana affirmed. For the first time that day, she actually felt confident about something. Hotch saw, and briefly nodded.

"Morgan, you take Messers with you to examine the crime scenes and bodies of the victims. See if there's anything the police might've missed. Prentiss, you work victimology, and Reid, you work a geographical profile. Dave and I will talk to the families."

_Dave? Who's Dave?_ Adriana thought. She realized he was talking about Agent Rossi, and she felt a little disconcerted by the team's informality. Morgan and Garcia spoke to each other with cutesy affection, Hotch had just referred to her as "Messers," all the team had nicknames and deep personal connection. Agent Jareau hadn't prepared her for that. Adriana just wanted to be asked occasional questions, give occasional opinions, and stay far away from anyone. _Do they expect me to socialize?_ she wondered with a faint degree of fear. It was easy for her to be swept away while explaining something she knew thoroughly, but being around the team, hell, being around _people_, still required every shred of confidence she had.

"And everybody," Hotch continued, "Let's do this as quietly as possible." Everybody nodded again and turned back to the files. Adriana shifted away from Morgan and twisted around to see the window. She spent the rest of the plane ride staring out of it, wondering how she was going to survive this.

* * *

A/N: Review if you like freaky murders based on actual freaky stuff! In case you're wondering, the Aztec god's name is pronounced "weetz-oh-low-potcht-li"

Nuwanda31- thanks x the amount of my love for oreo cookies


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: SNOW DAY! I love how easily my school closes. Anyways, I felt like having a flashback-thing, so the first part is the conversation Adriana had with JJ from chapter 1. **

**Disclaimer: So I'm not allowed to get within 1000 ft of Leslie Moonves anymore, so I think those rights to CM are basically gone. Maybe I'll send a muffin basket to her to get her to reconsider. **

* * *

"_Hello," she heard, "This is Agent Jennifer Jareau" _

"_A-Agent Jareau of the BAU?" Adriana stammered._ What's going on? Did Agent Jareau return to the BAU? Is my job gone?

"_Formerly of the BAU," JJ corrected. "This is SSA Adriana Messers, right?"_

"_Uh, yeah that's me," Adriana said confusedly. "Why are you calling?" It didn't occur to her that her words sounded rude until she spoke them. _

_JJ smiled at the anxiety in the girl's voice. "I'm calling to congratulate you. You've been selected to be on the BAU." _

_Shocked, Adriana asked, "Are you sure?" _

_JJ laughed a little and said, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. But that's only part of the reason I'm calling. Agent Hotchner asked me to find out how prepared you are for this job." _

_Adriana was still in a daze. Intense relief flooded over her as the knowledge that she had somewhere to go, somewhere to escape to, made its way through her mind. _

"_Hello?" JJ asked. "Did you hear what I said, Agent Messers?"_

_Adriana cleared her thoughts. "Oh yes! Sorry, I'm just a little…surprised." She went over JJ's words and frowned. "Why didn't Agent Hotchner ask me if I'm ready for the job in my interview?"_

"_Because he said you looked like you were about to pass out," JJ informed her._

_Ah. It _had_ been that obvious. _

_JJ asked, "Are you better now?"_

_Adriana had to laugh at that. Was she better? At what? Better to answer questions? Yes. Better to feel something other than fear? No. Would she ever be? She doubted it._

_Still she answered, "Yes, I'm fine now. What do you need to know?"_

"_Mostly if you'll be ok at dealing with the stresses each case brings."_

"_I don't have a problem with corpses," Adriana said immediately, thinking that's what she meant. _

"_It's not just that," JJ said, "You'll have to deal with the press and police forces, comfort grieving families, and be around the unsub. You'll be getting into their minds. Will you be able to handle that?" She was actually concerned, her maternal nature once again trumping her ability to be neutral. The agent's voice just sounded so…young. JJ wondered if she could handle what being a profiler meant. She saw it almost destroy someone else as young as her. _

_On her end, Adriana thought for a moment. Could she do it? It's almost like what she did at Missing Persons. _Missing Persons…_she thought. The thought of it led to flashes of memories that she tried to bury deep._

I won't think about that. I won't think about that. I won't think about that. I won't think about that. _The memories threatened to bubble up into her forethoughts, but she screamed the mantra in her head and forced all thoughts down. She steadied herself with a deep breath, pushing away another almost panic-attack. _

"_I can do it," she said into the phone with a foreign intensity. "Please let me prove myself."_

_JJ was taken aback at her forceful tone, but only said, "Don't worry about that. You'll get plenty of opportunities to prove yourself. I just wanted to make sure you can handle it."_

_Adriana regretted exposing so much of her desperation to Agent Jareau. Agent Hotchner had already seen too much, but now someone who wasn't even on the team? _Get a hold of yourself, Adriana, _she commanded herself. _

_"Is there anything else you need to know?" Adriana asked. She was eager to stop talking to people, because every time she had talked to someone that day, she inadvertently revealed more of herself. Not good. _

_JJ said, "Actually, there's one last thing…Just don't be afraid. You'll be working with the best profilers in the FBI. And they're some of the best people I know. You'll feel better once you start working closely with them." _

_Adriana so badly wanted to believe her. The absolute conviction in Agent Jareau's voice almost swayed her, but she remembered what happened when she allowed herself to trust people. Nothing good ever came of it. So she gritted her teeth, bade thanks to Agent Jareau, and hung up. _

_Whatever happened at the BAU, she could deal with it. As long as she kept to herself, she'd be fine. _

...

The plane landed soundly on the tarmac, and Adriana released her death-grip on the armrests. _Ugh, that sucked._ Plane rides lost their novelty on her very quickly.

The team exited the plane, blinking in the sudden sunlight that flooded their eyes. Adriana wanted to shake her sore limbs out, but decided that it would probably look as weird as her continued fidgeting.

Several black SUVs waited for them by the end of the airstrip. Quietly lugging her go-bag, Adriana wondered if they were to drive themselves. She wasn't exactly the world's best driver, and it would be best for the other agents not to figure that out yet.

"We'll all meet at the Bemidji police department," announced Hotch as they walked towards the vehicles. "Let's try to deliver a profile today. And Agent Messers-" he broke off, noticing she was rather far away, "you'll look for more evidence on the bodies to follow up with your theory." Adriana squinted against the sun, and nodded.

The team separated into different cars, and she figured out she was supposed to follow Agent Morgan. He politely waited for her by the car, and even held the door open for her. After unceremoniously dumping her bag in the back seat, she wondered what the chances were that Agent Morgan wouldn't notice her sitting in the rear of the car.

Unfortunately, he didn't give her an option. "Come on, Messers!" he exclaimed. "Up here!" So she went around to the passenger seat and climbed in.

As they drove out of the miniscule airport, the desolate countryside shot past the car in a blur. Winter had reduced all the trees to bare saplings and twigs, and snow from previous storms lay in small, dirty piles. Nothing but small communities and more empty land passed them by.

"Sure is a good place to hide a body," Morgan remarked. He wanted to draw the young agent into conversation, and he figured the case would be the only thing she would respond to.

He thought wrong, though, because Adriana just threw a quick glance at him, nodded her assent, and turned back to the window. But he wasn't deterred yet.

"So, how'd you know so much about Mayan rituals?" he asked.

"Aztec," Adriana corrected automatically. Then she said simply, "It's what I should know, I guess. I'm trying to get a doctorate in anthropology. I have to know everything about human cultures."

"Doctorate? What're you, another genius or something?"

"Not really," Adriana said flatly, turning back to the window.

"Oh." Morgan couldn't think of a way to steer the conversation anymore, so he gave it up for this car ride.

It wasn't long until they reached the first crime scene. Surrounded by woods, it was about ten miles outside of town, almost in the national park. Morgan and Adriana had to walk through dense brush to get to the clearing where the first two victims had been buried. When they got there, it was eerily silent. Two holes in the ground, on opposite sides of the clearing, were roped off with police tape and several little evidence markers lay on the ground.

Adriana gazed all around the area, but saw nothing in the landscape out of the ordinary. Then she ducked under the police tape by one of the graves and knelt down by it. Her lips pursed as she remembered everything about Incan burial rituals, scanning the hole to see it any of it applied.

Morgan circled the clearing and came back to her. "Find anything?"

"Nothing new," she said softly. "The unsub didn't know what he was doing at all, though. These holes are the wrong shape and depth."

"Ok, so he's not knowledgeable in the rituals," Morgan said. "But he couldn't have dragged their bodies all the way from town. He needed a vehicle. So where's the tire marks?"

"Maybe he killed them here?" Adriana suggested.

"That still wouldn't explain how he could get back to town from here," he pointed out. "And he needed a way to get to the third dump site." He took one last sweeping look at the area and said, "It's quiet and private here. Good place. He could've lured them."

Adriana adjusted her sleeves nervously. She had never been in the same place where an actual murder happened; the whole place gave her an uneasy feeling. Luckily, Morgan took notice. "Let's go to the morgue," he said.

"We're not going to the third crime scene?" Adriana asked.

"It's too far for us to go there, to the morgue, and back to the station in time. We'll just go off the pictures." Morgan looked at her standing stiffly and smiled. "One thing to know about Hotch is that he's a stickler for time." He turned around and trudged back the way they came.

"Yeah, I noticed," Adriana muttered before she went off to catch up with Morgan.

The ride to the morgue was just as silent as the previous, but mercifully shorter. The Bemidji county morgue, however, was pitiful. In a town with a minute murder rate, much less murders involving Aztec rituals, there's not much need for one, so it was actually in a funeral home. Adriana was confused why they'd pulled up to a church-like building, but Agent Morgan looked sure enough of the location.

Inside a back room, on several examining tables, laid the three victims. Adriana quickly snapped a pair of gloves on and examined them. All three victims were around the same age, early twenties, but were different races. _Strange_, Adriana thought. She walked over to Amy Montez's body first, pulled back the fabric, and ran her fingers over the jagged scar that indicated where she had been eviscerated. Black burn marks singed the top of the cut, close to where Amy's heart had been.

Adriana turned to the coroner. "What was used to kill her?"

The coroner, an old funerary director who had never examined anything more gruesome than an amputated foot, just shrugged helplessly. Adriana went to Kelly Davis's body, again feeling the same marks.

"What're you thinking, Messers?" Morgan asked, watching her careful examinations

Adriana looked up and said uncertainly, "I can't tell what the murder weapon is. The traditional weapon in basically all Aztec sacrifices is an obsidian blade. They're made of volcanic rock and extremely sharp. The cuts on the victims aren't smooth enough to be from an obsidian blade, but they're from something big."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the blade is big. Maybe a machete?"

Morgan looked skeptical. "A machete to cut out someone's heart?"

"Like I said, he's not very good," Adriana said. She looked down at the body and wondered what the inside of the chest cavity looked like. "Can I open her up?" she asked the elderly coroner.

The coroner's eyes just widened in horror at her request. "Are you sure that's wise, Agent?" he wheezed. Adriana looked over at Morgan, who seemed to have paled too. _So much for that…_

After replacing the sheets over the victims and throwing her gloves away, Adriana felt like she was missing something. The unsub was luring girls to a clearing, cutting their chests open, and extracting their hearts. Why? Did the hearts symbolize something else besides the ritual? God, what was he doing with them?

"Messers," Morgan interrupted her musing, "You done? We need to get to the station."

Tearing her eyes away from the covered bodies, Adriana exited the morgue and followed Morgan back to the car.

* * *

A/N: Review if you like snow days! Sorry if the flashback is in a sort of awkward place, but I think it fit well there. Plus, I wanted to give you all some more insight on Adriana before I go all case-fic on you. I'm not planning for much more characterization for awhile.

Nuwanda31- thanks x the amount of snowflakes in my yard


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **IMPORTANT NOTICE!** I will probably never update something on a Friday or Saturday, so don't expect it. **

**Disclaimer: Leslie Moonves is ignoring my apologetic muffin baskets. That bitch better give me the rights to CM, or I'm going to have to do something very unpleasant. *Takes out tar and feathers***

* * *

The Bemidji County Police Department welcomed the BAU better than other police departments had in the past. Of course, it _was_ a federal case, so they couldn't necessarily resent their presence, but Bemidji had loyal, if not short-staffed, officers that grew up in the town. Their welcome consisted of a cramped room the size of a janitor's closet, a table, a white board, some very bad coffee, and utter privacy.

It was at this board that Reid tacked up a map of Bemidji and was finishing a geographical profile. He muttered to himself while drawing lines across the town map, searching for any hidden pattern. Lines connecting the victims' homes were finished, and he was working on the lines between dump sites. Prentiss sat at the table, sipping her coffee and glancing between pictures of all the victims. The victimology of the case was frustrating her.

Hotch and Rossi entered the room, back from interviewing the families, and both looked worn out.

Prentiss saw their expressions and asked sympathetically, "Was it bad?"

Rossi nodded. "They're worried that it's someone from their town," he said, "and it's not so big a place for their fears to be unfounded."

"I don't think so," Reid said. "At least, not _born_ here."

"How do you figure?" Hotch asked.

"Any local would know that this spot," Reid pointed to the third dump site, "is already in the national forest. If he were trying to avoid detection, he wouldn't bury someone there. Plus, the spot where the first two were found is pretty well known as a party-site for teens."

"But that's exactly it," Rossi pointed out. "Maybe he's not trying to stay under the radar. After all, performing ritualistic murders practically screams for attention."

"Prentiss, anything show up in victimology?" Hotch questioned.

"Nothing at all," she groused. "All three victims are different races, have no similar features, and weren't involved in anything subversive or illegal. Not even the same background! The first two went to Bemidji State University and lived on campus, but the third grew up in town, lived with her boyfriend, and worked locally."

"Maybe something from Agent Messer's theory will work out," Hotch said, reviewing the case file once again.

Rossi snorted. "Don't count on it. These may be ritualistic murders, but no one's going to kill someone because it would," he air-quoted, "'appease their gods.'"

Just then, Morgan walked in with Adriana trailing behind him. Going into the room, she felt like she had in the morning. It was crowded, full of people she didn't know, and seemed to her like a game of "which of these things doesn't belong?"

Adriana repressed the urge to sigh at how whiny she sounded to herself. Not only had she been selected to join the ranks of the BAU, but she was working on an actual case, where her opinions were being listened to. No newbie agent was this lucky. _I shouldn't be so ungrateful_, she berated herself. Nevertheless, when she entered the room, she went to a corner and stood there silently, half-expecting the other agents to tell her she was wrong.

Morgan eyed the faces of the other agents, seeing their frustration. "Had any luck?"

"Nope," Prentiss said roundly. "The victims have nothing connecting them."

"What'd you mean?" Morgan demanded. "They're all women in their twenties, all tortured-"

"Yeah, which would make sense if it's a case of sexual sadism, which it's not."

"We also know that the unsub is most probably not from Bemidji," Reid added.

"Probably?" asked Morgan, arching his eyebrows.

Reid shrugged. "Most of the town's population is due to Bemidji State University, which includes the possibility of an out-of-towner. Given the ages of the victims, that gives us roughly 5,500 people to choose from."

Seeing everyone's identical looks of frustration, Hotch suggested, "Let's ask Garcia if she's found anything," Morgan smiled and dialed her number.

She picked up immediately. "Master of the domain of all things guaranteed to rise up one day and destroy humanity speaking," she sang out.

"Is that a threat, babygirl?" Morgan joked.

"Only if you don't declare your undying love for me."

"Maybe later. Right now, we need everything you found about the victims. Are they connected at all?" Morgan clicked his phone on speaker, and Garcia's voice rang out triumphantly.

"Ah-ha! That is where I have some good news for you, my beauties. After some digging, with some varying degrees of legality, I found out that all three girls went to the same gym. Amy Montez and Allie Phillips both had memberships there, while Kelly Davis worked there as an instructor."

"He's killing girls that go to the gym?" Hotch said, a little dubiously.

"I didn't finish! Kelly Davis taught three different classes in that gym, but in only one of them did the two other victims go to."

"What class was that?" Prentiss asked.

"Kick-boxing."

"Warriors!" Adriana gasped. The rest of the team spun around, quite forgetting she was there.

"What?" Morgan asked, accidentally disconnecting Garcia with click.

"The unsub, he's killing warriors! That's who would be traditionally sacrificed in Aztec ceremonies. They would usually be from conquered tribes, brought in as prisoners-of-war."

"People who take a kick-boxing class aren't warriors," said Rossi flatly.

"But an unsub who performs ritualistic murders based on Aztec sacrifices could be unstable enough to make that rationalization," Reid spoke up.

_Is he defending me? _Adriana puzzled.

"Ok, hold on," Rossi said annoyedly. "Let's say for argument's sake that you're right, and the unsub is killing people he considers to be 'warriors,' and he does it by following an ancient Aztec ritual. Why, though? He's not a sexual sadist, that we know, and he's not smart enough to come up with his own ritual, so he borrows someone else's. Where does that leaves us?"

Morgan said, "That gives us someone motivated by personal reasons, like anger or jealousy-"

"-Or a mission-based killer," Reid finished.

The team fell silent as they thought about the unsub's motivations. Adriana's gaze fell on the crime scene photos, and she realized what she was missing. The glaringly obvious fact that was staring her in the face in the clearing. Her mind whirred into action.

"He's carrying out his religious ideas," Adriana stated.

"What makes you say that, Agent Messers?" Hotch asked.

Adriana went over to the table and pointed at the photos. "All the crime scenes are clean."

Nobody was following, so she said, "There's no blood anywhere except for inside the graves where the victims bled out. There should've been massive blood splotches on the grass if he killed them there."

"Maybe he killed them in a secondary location," Prentiss suggested.

"He did, but the secondary location was there at the same time."

At this, everybody looked confused until Reid figured it out. "His secondary location is his vehicle!" he exclaimed. "That's where he killed them, and from where he dumped their bodies into the graves!"

Adriana nodded. "He needs someplace high up to kill them and drop their bodies."

"Why?" Hotch asked.

Adriana opened her mouth to answer, but Reid cut in. "Because in the Aztec New Fire Ceremony, the sacrificial victims would be killed at the top of the Temple at Tenochtitlan, and their bodies would be thrown down the steps."

Morgan winced. "How often did they do that?"

"The New Fire Ceremony would be performed every fifty-two years," Adriana answered.

"Actually," Reid corrected, "It was based on a complex calendar system, involving a solar calendar, much like our 365-day one today, and a twenty-three month calendar, with every month corresponding to a sacred animal or element. After going through each combination between the two calendars, the Aztecs believed that the apocalypse would occur unless they appeased their gods with the sacrifice of warriors. This cycle would take place every 18,992.5943 days. In fact, the next cycle is predicted to occur in December, 2012." He recited the facts and numbers off as if he were reading from a textbook.

"And how many years is 18,992 days?" Morgan asked wryly.

"Fifty-two," he replied promptly.

"Reid, that's exactly what Agent Messers just said," Hotch pointed out.

"Oh." Reid awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Sorry," he said to Adriana.

"It's ok." Unlike most people, Adriana wasn't insulted when Reid stepped in, talking. She was curious about why he felt the need to assert his intelligence, though, so she silently profiled him, unaware of the team's moratorium on it. _Is he intimidated by me, or is he like this every day?_

"So if this ritual is so specific, why's the unsub doing it now?" Prentiss argued.

"He might have his own variation on it," Hotch said. "Could explain his choice in location and victims."

"Oh, not you too," Rossi groaned. But before he could continue, someone interrupted him.

A breathless, young police officer skidded into the room. "Agent Hotchner?" he said. "Another body's been found."

...

Hotch knelt down by the body in the small, circular hole. Miles Renner, as the ID card claimed him to be, was found in the Chippewa National Forrest two hours ago. The same long, jagged cut from naval to heart ran adorned his chest. The strong body, adorned in tattoos, had lain in the ground two days, which meant the unsub's cooling off period shortened to only three days.

Hotch frowned at the change in victimology. This murder could prove Agent Messers' theory correct. As much as Hotch respected Adriana's opinion, he really didn't want to announce that the town had a serial killer performing gruesome sacrificial rituals.

Morgan came over to where Hotch stood in the forest. "I just checked with Garcia. She said Miles Renner was in the same kick-boxing class. He wasn't reported missing because, according to his buddies, he had a habit of partying in these woods."

"Which made him easy prey for the unsub," Hotch muttered. Brushing the dirt off his pants, Hotch stood up and glanced back at his team. They were all scattered around the crime scene, taking notes, asking questions.

"Let's head back," Hotch told Morgan. "I think we have enough for a profile."

* * *

A/N: Ooooh! Suspense! Once again, everything I've mentioned about the Aztecs is true. I just had to take a quiz and a DBQ on them, so I should be pretty savvy.

Nuwanda31- thanks x the amount of days in 52 years (lol)


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm not even remotely close to a profiler; I've never even taken a psych class. So when you read this chapter, just know that this is where I'm taking creative license.**

**Disclaimer: Leslie Mooves has ignored my muffin baskets for the last time! I've come with a devious scheme to make her give me the rights to CM, and it involves duct tape, mangos, nerf guns, and violating several federal laws. Including littering! Oh, I'm such a bad-ass. **

* * *

"The man we're looking for is white, in his twenties, physically-strong, and drives a four wheel-drive pickup truck," Hotch informed the Bemidji officers. They sat in front of the BAU agents, some taking notes. "We believe he's not a local, possibly a college student at Bemidji State University. He's of average intelligence, but a careful planner. He knows the area well enough to know where the popular gathering-places are, but not enough to know where the boundaries of the national forest begin."

Morgan took over. "He's a mission-based killer, meaning that he will keep killing until he's fulfilled some kind of purpose. This particular unsub is killing in a manner that suggests he believes he needs to kill strong people in order to fulfill a ritual. Now usually, mission-based killers are hard to find because they try to blend in, but this guy's trying to make a statement. He's trying to be noticed. That's why he made sure all the victims would be identified."

"Then why'd he bury the victims if he wants to be noticed?" an officer asked.

"The unsub also wants to keep killing for as long as possible. He believes he needs to kill as many victims as he can right now," Hotch replied.

"But why is he specifically killing strong people?" another interrupted.

Morgan and Hotch turned to Adriana, who was trying to make herself scarce in the back of the room, her hands clasped. She saw everyone look at her to answer, so she said slowly, "Well… like Agent Morgan said, the unsub thinks he needs strong people to complete a ritual." She answered as non-committally as possible, careful not say anything about Aztecs or sacrifices. It wasn't necessary to create panic.

When no one questioned her, Adriana continued, "And he believes this ritual to be so vitally important, it's probably all he can think about. He's unstable, and anyone who's talked to him can detect that. People who know him won't be too surprised to hear that he's behind the murders. Still, he lured four people to secluded areas- maybe they were on a date or he gave them drugs- so he can appear normal when he needs to."

"And don't think that once we find him that it's over," Rossi added warningly. "This unsub will only stop when we stop him. He'll resist arrest, and most probably, he'll do it violently. So be careful."

All the officers nodded and the chief detective ordered, "All right men, start spreading the profile around town."

"No, we won't be doing that," Hotch said sharply. "That could scare the unsub into hiding. We'll spread the profile to specific people."

"So we're just supposed to wait for him to kill someone else?" the detective snapped, making Adriana wince at his harsh tone.

"No," Hotch calmly argued, "We'll put patrols at all of the dump sites, increase security around the forest, and ask you to notify us immediately if someone's been abducted. My agents are giving the profile to people who we believe to be in his victim pool. That's the only way we'll get a lead in this case."

"But if we tell people-"

"We run the risk of the unsub escaping. Is that clear?"

The detective bravely stared down Hotch, but then relented. "Men, go to your stations," he said in brusque defeat.

Hotch nodded and turned to his team. While they had been giving the profile to the Bemidji police, Prentiss and Reid were at the gym where the victims were chosen in hopes of finding a match from the profile. Everyone sat back down at the cramped table and automatically looked over the file again. They sat like that until the other agents returned five minutes later. Morgan looked up hopefully.

Prentiss just shook her head. "We didn't get a hit off the profile from anybody," she told them.

When Hotch finally announced that they should get some sleep, everyone sagged in relief.

It was late evening by now, and all the BAU members were tired. Adriana wanted nothing more than to crash into the bed in her tiny room. They were lodging at a simple Best Western that was just down the road from the station, but Adriana still had to heave her go-bag over her shoulder and stile a yawn when they reached it.

She threw open the door to her room and gratefully collapsed on the bed. Unfortunately, before she could close her eyes, someone knocked on her door. She answered it, startled to see Agent Hotchner.

"Yes, sir?" she said timidly. Was he going to berate her for giving away too much in the profile?

Hotch stood as stoically as ever, but he allowed a glint of approval in his expression as he said, "Messers, I wanted to commend your handling of the officers today. You answered their questions and delivered the profile very well."

"Thank you, sir," Adriana said, surprised. _I didn't screw up after all?_

Hotch gave a short nod and walked away.

Before she could stop herself, Adriana called after him, "Agent Hotchner?"

He stopped. "Yes?"

She thought on her words before saying them for a change. "Um, was I wrong to… Well, was it wrong for me to assume my theory is right?"

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked in confusion.

"I mean, I assumed the case was related to Mesoamerican rituals," she stammered, "but I didn't think I was wrong then. But what if I am? The murders could be something else entirely. What if I led the case down the wrong path and…" Adriana trailed off when she saw the hard look on Hotch's face.

"Agent Messers, when you applied for this job I heard you say that you needed this opportunity. I won't question why, but now that you're here, you need to recognize that you are a profiler and that means that second-guessing yourself is not an option. I chose you, and that means I trust your judgment. I suggest you do the same." And with that, Hotch turned around and walked away without interruption.

Adriana closed her door and flopped back on the bed. Agent Hotcher was right, but that wouldn't stop her insecurity. She knew she hadn't failed, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she did. The next time she felt like that, she resolved, she would keep it to herself.

Knowing that sleep might elude her now, Adriana dug through her go-bag. From its very bottom, hidden under clothes and toiletries, she pulled out a file. Its folder was soft and worn, its papers yellowed and frayed from repeated readings. Adriana changed into her pajamas, flipped it open, and reread the memorized words until she finally drifted to sleep.

….

The next morning was gray and cold, and it found the BAU back at the Bemidji police station. They were reviewing the case while waiting for something to turn up.

"What I don't get is why the unsub's cooling-off period is shortening," Morgan said as he tossed down the file.

"He might be getting bolder," Prentiss said.

"Or he could be trying to pick up the pace," Reid said, standing by the board.

"What, like trying to get in as many victims as he can?" Morgan asked.

Reid said, "It could be that he knows he'll have to stop soon. The New Fire Ceremony lasted only a few days."

"Four days," murmured Adriana.

Reid went on, not hearing her. "The Aztecs sacrificed their victims on an industrial scale. It's estimated that they peaked at 20,000 people in four days. Maybe the unsub believes that he needs to kill as many 'warriors' before his own timeline runs out."

"So he's reenacting this ceremony for himself," Prentiss surmised.

"But does that change the profile?" Rossi inquired.

"Actually," Reid said, "it makes more sense. He's having his own New Fire Ceremony, and he's just getting started."

The words fell on the team ominously. At that moment, the case was dead, there were no leads, and they couldn't even tell the townspeople to look out for someone who wanted to rip out their hearts.

That's why when a phone rang, they couldn't help but hope something in the case broke. Prentiss answered her cell and talked hurriedly into it. She stood up quickly and announced, "Guys, we got a lead."

…

"You're sure it's him?" Prentiss asked the gym manager once again, shaking the paper he had given her.

"I'm sure. You said he's in Kelly's kick-boxing class, twenties, physically strong, but kinda weird. That's him."

Prentiss looked down and read the name. _Dylan Hammond_. It didn't sound like the name of a psycho, but Prentiss knew better than to base opinions on names.

"Thank you for your cooperation," she said, itching to call Garcia for a background check.

"Wait!" the gym manager cried as Prentiss turned away. "Did he…were there are any drugs in Kelly's body?"

Prentiss looked at him shrewdly. "You're Kelly's boyfriend, aren't you?"

The man nodded. "I just…How'd that guy get her to come with him?" he asked pitifully. "Was she cheating on me?"

Prentiss really didn't want to get into this discussion now. She patted his shoulder apologetically, but waved the paper to show him that she needed to work. Once away from him, she called Garcia.

"I was starting to think you guys forgot about little ol' me," she pouted.

"Well, we really need you right now," said Prentiss, walking back into the room with the other members. "Can you run the name Dylan Hammond through your computer?"

"Oh, sweetheart, I could do it in the time it takes you to blink," Garcia smirked. She pulled up information about Dylan Hammonds in Bemidji. "Ok, we've got ten people with that name."

"Narrow it down to men with pickup trucks," Hotch said.

"Got it!" she exclaimed. "Dylan Hammond, twenty-three, grew up kinda far away in Lakeville, Minnesota, goes to Bemidji State University, and drives a 2006 Ford Ranger. And it looks like he went to counseling for awhile for his dad's death."

"Garcia, give us his dorm number. We need to find him as soon as possible. At the rate he's going, he could've already chosen his next victim."

…

Dylan Hammond smiled to himself as he pulled out the jar from under his bed. _Another tribute to Huitzilopochtli_, he thought as he placed the heart of the last warrior in the jar. Dylan knew the revered Aztecs used skulls to commemorate their sacrifices to the god, but he didn't have enough time to scalp somebody.

Ever since he found the rituals of the New Fire Ceremony, Dylan knew his purpose. He was destined to be the high priest that would save the world from the fires that would extinguish the Earth. But he worried, because the fourth cycle of the calendar was almost up, and Dylan needed to hurry if enough warriors were to be given back to the world.

A knock at his door made him jump up and push the jar back under his bed. He answered it, and a tall blonde stood there. He'd met her at a martial-arts class that was scheduled after his kick-boxing class. He saw that she ranked a black belt._ A perfect warrior_.

"So where're we going?" she asked brightly.

"I know a quiet place," he told her.

* * *

A/N: And once again, I leave you with a cliff-hanger. *evil laugh*

Nuwanda31- thanks x the amount that Dylan Hammond is creepy (and I specifically made him extra creepy just for this comparison)


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: ****Sorry for the lateness, but this will probably be my new schedule as I have SATs coming up along with normal homework. I tried to make this chapter feel like a real episode. I don't know why I have that compulsion, but I just do. I hope I captured it well!**

**Disclaimer: I've hacked into Leslie Mooves's roomba vaccum, and I'm giving it artifcial intelligence so it can transmit psychic waves to her while she sleeps. The message is- "Give me the rights to Criminal Minds… and a pair of footsie pajamas." **

* * *

Three black SUVs sped from the police station. Hotch ordered an APB on Hammond's car as they drove to the university. Adriana tried to keep her heart from thumping too quickly, but she failed to control her fidgeting hands. She had field experience, but it was restricted to talking to detectives and finding the occasional body. Sometimes, back at Missing Persons, she would get a case that was vital to solve in twenty-four hours, and then she would be filled with a sense of urgency.

But it was nothing like this.

_A serial killer is out there, and he could have his next victim_ _with him_. Adriana had calmed herself slightly, but this thought made her chest pound.

The BAU sprang out of the cars as they screeched to a halt outside of the dorms. Hotch flashed his badge at the dorm's security officers by the door, and the rest followed behind him. Quickly, without even considering the elevators, they bolted up the stairs to the third floor, down a hallway, and skidded to a stop in front of a room.

Morgan pounded on the door. "Dylan Hammond, FBI! Open up!" He turned the knob, but it was locked and he hit it in frustration.

Hotch quickly dialed Garcia and said, "Garcia, do we have a warrant?'

"You're all set," she replied, "but don't let Morgan-"

_Crash!_

Too late, he unhinged the door with a resounding slam. Morgan stumbled into the room, followed by Prentiss, who drew her gun.

"He's not here!" she called to the others. Everyone entered and saw the cramped, messy room was indeed empty. They scattered around and searched for anything that could tell them where the unsub had gone. Loose papers were strewn everywhere, covering a tiny desk completely. Adriana picked one up and recognized it as a picture of Aztec priests holding sharpened daggers.

Rossi was searching under the bed when he pulled out a jar. "Hotch, you need to see this," he said as he carefully lowered it back to the ground.

Everyone came over and stared at it. In the large jar, four hearts floated into a clear liquid. They were barely recognizable as hearts, though. Three were losing their original shape, becoming reddish-brown blobs.

"Judging from the decay, the liquid is just water," Reid said.

Prentiss grimaced but asked calmly, "I thought trophy collecting was a sign of sadism?"

"Not if you're copying Aztec rituals," Adriana said. "The priests would collect the skulls of the victims and display them on walls, but I guess this is the next best thing for the unsub."

"But where'd he go?" Morgan growled. He paced around the room, throwing up sheets and clothes and papers. "It has to be in here somewhere!"

"We profiled that he's a careful planner. Maybe he marked locations on a map," Prentiss suggested.

A minute later, a map was found. Just like Hotch predicated, there were several sights marked in bright red on it. All of them were areas in and around the forest, but they couldn't tell which one the unsub was at now. He didn't draw any dates next to them or any marks on which ones he already used.

"That could be it," Rossi said, pointing to the spot closest to the university. It was another secluded, wooded area.

Hotch shook his head. "This is no good. We don't have time to examine each spot." Studying the map, he tapped major roads leading into the forest. "We'll each station one of these roads and wait for the unsub to come to us."

"Hotch, he could've left already. He could be there right now!" Morgan said. He wanted to pace in agitation, but the room was too small.

"We'll beat him there," Hotch said firmly. "We'll need to break speed limits, but we can make it there before him." Nobody contradicted him, so he assigned them roads to man, and then they all rushed back.

Running from the dorm room back to the cars gave Adriana a dizzying feeling, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. In an odd way, all the back-and-forth sprinting reminded her of the scavenger hunts she used to do as a kid. Her elementary school hosted annual scavenger hunts towards the last days of school, and Adriana loved them. She could remember the feeling of desperately running towards something so vividly, for one crazy moment, she thought she was eight again. The feeling went away as quickly as it came, but Adriana was reminded of one thing:

Every year, no matter what age or division, she never lost.

...

Morgan and Adriana had barely gotten to their assigned place when a response came on the APB out on Hammond's car. She jumped as the police radio announced its location.

"Attention, all units," the radio crackled, "flagged Ford Ranger heading eastbound on White Horse Road. Roadblocks in place. Proceed with caution."

Morgan intercepted it and said, "We're right there. Stay where you are until we have him cornered." Suddenly, he swung the car into reverse and parked it across the road, cutting off all traffic.

"Is it a good idea to surprise him?" Adriana asked timidly as they left the car to stand outside. "He's a mission-based killer; he could fight his way out."

Morgan glanced at the agent by his side. He felt a flash of guilt when he saw Messers twisting her shaking hands, but wasn't sure what she was afraid of. She didn't flinch at mutilated bodies, and spoke calmly about human sacrifice. Maybe the danger?

"He's not gonna hurt us," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "He'll try to escape, and we'll just box him in."

"And you do this a lot?" she asked warily.

Before Morgan got a chance to answer, they heard the dull roar of an engine approaching them, and both automatically drew their guns. Adriana was supremely grateful for the ingrained response her FBI training lent her. The moment she touched the gun, an almost involuntary feeling of familiarity swept over her, and her shaking stopped. She drew the gun and stood straight and poised beside Morgan.

A black pick-up truck drove closer and stopped twenty feet away from the two BAU agents.

A young man leaned out of the window and shouted, "Is there a problem, officers?"

"Dylan Hammond, FBI!" yelled Morgan. "Get out of the car now!"

The man's eyes flashed dangerously as he looked for someway to escape. His gaze alighted on the girl sitting next to him, looking confused.

"Dylan, why are they stopping us?" she asked.

Without warning, he grabbed her and pulled her out of the car, then snatched a long knife from under her seat. Adriana and Morgan ran forwards to stop him, but he already placed the knife by her throat. The girl froze.

"Let her go!" Morgan shouted.

"I have to give her to the sun!" Hammond yelled. "I can't let the world end in fire!"

"Hammond, the world isn't ending! Put the knife down!"

Adriana saw Hammond edging away to the side of the road. Thinking quickly, she shouted, "Huitzilopochtli won't accept your offering!"

Hammond froze in his tracks. "What?"

"Your sacrifice will not be accepted," she said. "Only warriors have the privilege to let their blood sustain the Earth. Look at your offering!"

Hammond glanced down at the imprisoned girl. She was starting to shake violently, getting so close to the edge of the blade. Her eyes were welling up with frightened tears.

"She's no warrior," Adriana continued. "Warriors don't show fear."

Hammond looked around in frustration, but he didn't let her go. "But I need a sacrifice! The world only has two more days left in the cycle!"

Adriana walked cautiously towards him and set her gun down on the ground.

"Messers, what're you doing?" Morgan hissed.

"I'm an actual warrior," she said, facing only Hammond. "Let her go, and use me instead. I know that Huitzilopochtli will accept me."

He looked at her, but saw no traces of a lie in her face. Hammond pushed the girl away, and suddenly ran at Adriana with the machete.

Two shots rang out, and Hammond crumpled to the ground. For a second, Adriana thought he was dead, but he clutched his right leg and moaned in pain. She spun around saw Morgan lowering his gun.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Morgan nodded and ran over to cuff Hammond. Adriana noticed Hammond's hostage still standing in shock.

"I'm Agent Messers," Adriana said as she ran over to her. "Are you all right? Can you tell me your name?"

"Brittany," the girl whispered. Adriana looked at her closely, measuring the shock she suffered.

"Brittany, we're getting help right now. You'll be able to go home really soon, ok?" As she spoke, they heard the blare of sirens.

Adriana peered into her face, one that was only a few years younger than her own, quaking, full of terror, and she wondered if that's what she looked like only moments ago…

...

The BAU filed into the plane, all worn out by the case. Adriana chose to sit on the couch at the back of the plane, and the rest of the team sprawled out wherever. The plane took off with her ears ringing painfully as her head pounded. All the stress of running from place to place and negotiating with the unsub made her entire body feel exhausted.

She almost nodded off when Hotch came over. "Well done, Agent Messers," he said.

"Thank you, sir."

He looked at her seriously. "And don't forget about what I said."

Adriana remembered his advice, and nodded. _I won't be forgetting that conversation any time soon._

When Hotch walked away, Adriana released the breath she didn't realize she was holding in. Feeling slightly lighter, she turned to the window and pulled herself in tight. Her first case didn't end with her dying or passing out, but now Adriana questioned herself. The exhilarating feeling of hunting down the unsub, was she ready to feel that? Could she handle it?

But when Adriana remembered what she said to Agent Hotchner at her interview, she realized she couldn't afford to ask herself those questions.

_"…I need to have this job. If I can't, I won't have anything left to work for, to achieve."_

Agent Hotchner was right in a way, she decided. She wouldn't doubt herself, because there was no place left for her to go.

...

"_In this world, torn with hate and war, adrift without an anchor or a compass with which to chart our course, we may well consider the Aztecs' example. The Indians worked _

_together for their common good, and no sacrifice was too great for their corporate well-being."_ –Historian George C. Vaillant

* * *

A/N: Review if you liked this case! Trust me, I have even more twisted cases for the BAU in my head. Things will not be boring as you continue reading this, I guarantee.

Heads up though, the next few chapters will not be case-fic-y. Is that even a word? Full of case-fic-ness? Case-fic-iality? Case-fic-ittude? In any case, they will be character-centered. I feel that I didn't pay enough attention to individual people.

Nuwanda31- thanks x the amount of research I had to do on stupid Bemidji, Minnesota. Ugh, I'm never doing a case in an obscure place ever again!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Getting more in depth here with all the characters is so much fun! It's almost as fun as writing gory murder stories. **

**Credit goes to Nuwanda31 who gave me the idea for Adriana's nickname.**

**Disclaimer: Freakin' Leslie Moonves… That bitch discovered my clever scheme and she destroyed the roomba. How can you destroy a roomba? That means you have no soul! Which explains a lot, considering how she keeps refusing to give me control of CM. **

* * *

"_It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible."_ –Oscar Wilde

...

The next morning after the case ended promised to be an almost annoyingly sunny day. It was a bright, clear winter day, the kind that electrified the senses when you simply walked down the street.

Morgan walked into the bullpen at the BAU and saw Reid at his desk, writing a report. He was a little early, so Prentiss wouldn't be here for another ten minutes, Hotch was dropping off Jack, and Rossi was just entering his office. The only one missing was Messers. Dropping his stuff on his chair while still carefully holding his coffee, Morgan sauntered over to Reid's desk.

"Mornin' Reid," he greeted. "Where's the newbie?"

"Agent Missers?" Reid asked without looking up from his report. "I think she went to get coffee."

"Messers," Morgan corrected.

"Hmm?" Reid said distractedly, pen still in his hand.

Morgan frowned. "Messers, Reid. Her name's Messers. She just helped us break a weird-ass case, and you can't even remember her name? Somethin' suddenly wrong with your eidetic memory?"

"Actually, an eidetic memory doesn't always apply to all mediums, such as sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste," Reid explained without prompt. "In my experience, it works better on things required to be memorized or things you're interested in. Just because you have an eidetic memory doesn't mean you remember absolutely everything in the world. It means you can remember absolutely everything about certain things."

"Whatever, man," Morgan teased, "I still think it just shuts off around pretty girls."

"What? No!" Reid exclaimed with a hitch in his voice. "Eidetic memories work to process information by-"

He broke off suddenly when Adriana returned to her desk, clutching a cup of coffee, and Reid idly wondered how she took hers. Her hair was swept up in a bun again, and she wore basically the same outfit she had worn the last couple days: black pants, untucked shirt, and plain flats. Still, the same strange ring sat on her right index finger. It looked like some clumsily-set, unpolished stone.

Adriana blearly sipped at her bitter coffee, hoping it would wake her up. Last night was filled more tossing and turning than usual, probably from the stress of the last case. She picked up her pencil and tried with difficulty to read the small print of the file.

"Hey, Messers," Morgan said.

Adriana glanced up at him. "Oh, good morning Agent Morgan." She hastily looked down again, nervously tapping her pencil.

Morgan went on, undisturbed. "You know what Pretty Boy here thought your name was? _Missers_," evidently thinking it was funny. Reid glared at Morgan, but he ignored it.

Adriana shrugged softly. "It's ok. My name's easily confused."

"Yeah, but he thought it was _Missers_. Sounds like Missy." Morgan suddenly grinned. "Hey, can we call you that?"

"Call me what?" Adriana asked.

"Missy," Morgan replied, deciding that the nickname fit her. She was small and feminine, but he knew there was more to her than that.

Adriana faltered, looking for an excuse but finding none. "Um, I guess so," she said warily.

"Excellent," Morgan smiled, and he went off to find Garcia, probably to tell her of his clever idea of a nickname.

Adriana returned to her work with a "what-just-happened?" expression on her face. Reid, being a similar reciever of unwanted nicknames, said apologetically, "It's ok. He might forget about it in a couple days."

Realizing he was talking to her, Adriana looked up again and asked, "What if he doesn't?"

"Then you're pretty much stuck with 'Missy'," Reid replied with a smile, trying to be amusing.

Messers sure didn't find it funny, he saw. She grimaced and sighed in defeat, and Reid thought what could be so bad about the nickname. It wasn't nearly as annoying as being called "Pretty Boy."

When she bent back down to her work, Reid took the opportunity to study her, but being Reid, he was unsuccessfully discreet. Her desk was pushed up directly across from his own, but the clutter of a computer, in-boxes, and files gave it some illusion of privacy, so he allowed himself to look at her undisturbed. He tried his best not to profile her, but he involuntarily noticed that she sat with her whole body inverted, her shoulders hunched in and her elbows firmly at her sides, and he just couldn't figure out how this agent who could barely meet anyone's eye was chosen to be JJ's replacement.

Reid frowned at the word _replacement_, but he knew it was somewhat true. He heard Messers acknowlege that she was another profiler, not a new press-liasion, when she was first introduced to all of them, and he was sort of relieved at that. But that still didn't take away from the fact that she was here, and JJ wasn't.

But whether he acknowleged it or not, she was undeniably pretty. With her hair up, it was easier to see her delicate heart-shaped face set in a blank look of concentration. She had a fair complexion, one that didn't want or need makeup. Her cheeks would flare up whenever she blushed, elimenating rouge, and her eyelids were always a pale lavender, no need for eyeshadow. Her wide moss-colored eyes probably attempted to be as expressionless as her face, but even though they were framed by long, sleepy eyelashes, they were alert eyes, constantly whizzing back and forth. Even when she managed to keep her body still, her eyes would always be active, always taking in new information.

And whatever secret personality traits she was hiding, they certainly weren't reflected in her clothes. They were plain, almost bland, but she wore them well enough. She had a naturally thin figure, but since joining the FBI, she became more muscluar. Her abnormally long limbs were slender and toned, but nothing in her attire hinted to that hidden strength. It suggested nothing but quietness.

Reid watched her work diligently and quickly, reading files and flipping through them almost as fast as he did. Of course, that's impossible, he reasoned. The odds of two people with the ability to read over 20,000 words per minute working in the same place were infintismal. But while a normal person would've noticed someone staring at them for far too long, Messers got absorbed in each case. She didn't even look up as she drank her coffee.

Reid would've kept staring and puzzling over the new agent if Prentiss hadn't arrived then. He quickly went back to his work.

Prentiss threw down her stuff at her desk with a groan. "Oh my god, you would not imagine the traffic I had to deal with to get here," she said.

"That's why I use the subway," Reid said. "Public transporation in DC offers safer and more efficent alternatives to the daily-"

"You know something, Reid?" Prentiss said, cutting him off. "When a person complains to their friends about something menial like traffic, it's best to sympathize with them instead of giving them a lecture about why they're wrong."

"Oh," he said. "Sorry."

Prentiss just shook her head. They went through something like this about once a week. Then she noticed Messers working quietly.

"Hey," Prentiss said, getting Adriana's attention. "Morgan told me what you did yesterday."

Adriana thought back to yesterday, wondering what she was talking about. The profile? The chase?

"Um, w-what did I do?"

Prentiss arched her eyebrows in disbelief and said bluntly, "The part where you disarmed yourself to make sure a hostage could get away. Remember that?"

Reid looked up sharply at Messers. He was never told _that_.

Adriana blushed. "Yeah, that was pretty stupid. I did it without thinking, I guess."

Prentiss gave her the same curious look she had when Adriana first met the team. _Who is this girl?_ She calmly talked about human sacrifice and reasoned with an unstable unsub one day, and turned into a shell-shocked child the next.

_Still, it's her first day actually at the office_, Prentiss thought as she headed back to her desk. She couldn't help smiling as she remembered how she felt. A little out of place, definitely, very overwhelmed, but nowhere near as awkward as this agent.

The morning dragged on, and lunch came. Adriana was done around twelve files when Morgan asked if she wanted to join them for lunch. She declined as politly as possible, giving a lame excuse of wanting to continue working. Instead, as soon as they left, she took out a packed lunch and ate it ravenously. She hadn't realized that half of the day was already gone.

Sitting alone in the bullpen, eating her lunch, Adriana was strongly reminded of her junior year of high school. _But it's totally different! _she mentally protested. Nobody asked her to eat with them because, well, even Adriana admitted that she was pretty unlikeable then. She felt the strange urge to chuckle. Back then, she didn't give a damn if no one wanted to be near her. Now, she couldn't allow anyone to want to be near her. Not even with a nickname.

Adriana shook her head and cleared it of all the circling, mocking thoughts. It was useless to dwell on it now, she decided, because it didn't matter.

Lunch ended, and people trickled back into the bullpen. Before any of the BAU came back, Adriana quickly went back to work. She remained hunched over the reports, oblivious to the hours that passed by, until she started to feel a caffine crash. She went to get a second cup of coffee, thankful that it was actually drinkable. When she returned to her desk, she saw Agent Reid perched on Agent Morgan's desk.

"Actually, it's really cool!," she heard him say frantically. "The lunar settlers have to stage a revolt or else there won't be enough food for them and they'd have to resort to cannibalsim. The wheat trade with Earth has been secretly underspeculated and manipulated by the Earth officials that-"

"Now see, Reid, why the hell would I want to read that?" Morgan griped boredly, leaning back in his chair.

Reid threw one of his hands in the air. "It's one of the most profound novels that incorporates political critism with science fiction!"

"Heinlein?" Adriana blurted out.

Reid turned around sharply, but in his haste he fell off the edge of the desk and almost stumbled onto the floor. Morgan laughed and pulled himself back to his work.

"You know Heinlein?" Reid asked, disbelievingly. Usually no one knew the authors he read.

Adriana made an effort not to look at her feet as she said timidly, "_The_ _Moon is a Harsh Mistress _is my favorite of his books."

Reid's eyeborws arched up in surprise. To put it mildly, he didn't expect her to regularly read science fiction. But before he could ask Messers any further about her prefrence in books, she slipped back into desk and immediately started working again.

Reid stood frozen by her desk for a moment, then slowly went back to his own. His original opinion of Messers needed revising.

...

"_It is only at the first encounter that a face makes its full impression on us." _–German Philosopher Arnold Schopenhauer

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A/N: To the scores of people who reviewed my story- you've renewed by faith in mankind. Honestly. I'm feeling so much love, I'm going to try to get out the next chapter as soon as possible. Maybe cookies too!

As you readers may have figured out by now, I royally suck at chapter titles. If you have any ideas for renaming them, PM me.

Nuwanda31- thanks x the amount of times people cut Reid off mid-speech (Poor boy… Nobody will ever let him finish a thought)


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Heads up people- it's about to get really angsty in here. Unfortunately, Adriana's approach to making friends is taking 1 step forward, and going like 100 steps back. **

**This chapter is very OC-centric, so if you're bored by that, feel free to skip this chapter and wait until the next one. (Just know that if you actually skip this chapter, somewhere a puppy will die.)**

**As per bloodyrose1294's suggestion, I've removed all chapter titles so they're just numbers. Sorry if this bothers anyone, but I just suck at figuring out titles, and I'm far too lazy to come up with more in the future. **

**Disclaimer: New plan- I will destroy Leslie Moonves's life from the inside. I'm going to have an affair with her husband, destroy her marriage, and when she is at her most emotionally vulnerable, I'll request the rights to CM. It's totally foolproof. **

* * *

"_We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict." _–Jim Morrison

...

February faded into March without incident. It was so placid a transition, Adriana barely noticed she had worked at the BAU for a month now.

No cases arrived that required the BAU to travel, and Adriana could see that the rest of the agents were getting restless. They would look hopefully at Hotch or Garcia every morning, expecting one of them to say "conference room" or something. Each of them wondered how could there possibly not be someplace in America that needed their help. Reid tried to point out that statistically, serial offenders showed evidence of having off-seasons much like hunters have gaming seasons, but Morgan told him that statistics didn't make them disappear.

Adriana, meanwhile, was glad of the monotony. The routine she eventually settled into of going to work, writing until her hand cramped, and coming home- it felt safe. She wouldn't attract attention this way, she wouldn't stand out.

The last real interaction she had with the other team members was weeks ago, when Reid asked her if she knew Heinlein. Since then, all Adriana would say was a short greeting and maybe a farewell. The others tried to learn more about her and draw her into conversation; they would pretend to want a second opinion on a case, or they would comment about something innocuous, but Adriana would only answer with quiet gestures or monosyllables. Even Garcia, whose vivacious personality always won people over, found herself rebuffed in her friendly attempts. That was disconcerting.

...

"Again?" Morgan asked Garcia as she headed back to her lair in defeat.

"I don't get it," she said despondently. "Is it me?" She thought back if there was something offensive she had done. All she did was complement Adriana's… something. Hair? Shoes? Whatever, she just wanted to start a chat.

"Nah, definitely not you, babygirl. No one can resist the charms of Miss Penelope Garcia. You know that." He held her in a one-armed hug and rubbed her arm comfortingly.

"You mean _usually_ no one can resist my charms," she sniffed.

Morgan just looked at her helplessly. He knew that it may not seem like a big deal to him, but Garcia wanted the new agent to like her. Garcia had the incredible ability to burst into someone's life and dazzle them, but that wasn't the case with Missy. Morgan didn't want to believe it, but it looked like she was trying to avoid them. And he knew that cut Garcia deep.

It frustrated the rest of them, too.

Prentiss tried casually asking her about what she used to do at Missing Persons, but Adriana winced and said "Not much," and effectively cut off the conversation by turning back to a report. Reid feebly attempted commenting about the weather, to which Adriana just nodded and went away. Morgan persisted in calling her "Missy," even though it took him a couple tries until she actually responded. She tried not to cringe when Morgan called her that, but he noticed. It sort of made him mad. Why didn't she just say something if it bothered her?

Even Rossi and Hotch noticed. Rossi occasionally worked at a desk in the bullpen with them, but he wasn't much for chatting. Still, he was puzzled along with the rest of them about Adriana's unsociable behavior. And if Hotch happened to encounter Adriana, he would politely ask her how she was that day, or how she was finding the BAU, and Adriana would say, as respectfully as possible, that she was fine, that the BAU was fine, that everything was fine.

Hotch was starting feel unsure about her. Of course, he couldn't doubt her usefulness anymore after the last case, but even he was troubled by her unwillingness to socialize even slightly. He knew that a team that didn't communicate well wouldn't function cohesively, and he considered the possibility that Adriana could become a burden. When he interviewed Adriana, she didn't profile as chronically shy. She was nervous and jumpy for sure, but she didn't exhibit the shyness that he recognized in emotionally stunted adults. No, there was something to her psychopathology that he was missing.

...

Eventually, they stopped trying. She wanted to be left alone, and that's what they allowed her.

As March wore on, it brought a sense of apprehension to Adriana, like it did every year. She would wait anxiously for a particular date, the way someone standing on a cliff nervously peers over the edge. They know they'll have to jump sometime, but they hate the anticipation. And they dread the fall itself, but expecting and waiting for it makes it even worse.

On March 23, Adriana came to work on time. Nothing in her morning routine changed, and she felt a little proud that she didn't falter once. It was as if it were a normal day. She worked through cases all morning and through lunch.

In the afternoon, though, is when Adriana screwed up. She was in the middle of deciding whether or not there was a serial shooter in San Diego when she suddenly brought out her go-bag. She unthinkingly pulled out the frayed file stuffed at the bottom of the bag and placed it on her desk, and nobody noticed that she read and reread the same file for two hours.

She was about to read it a third time when she realized what she was doing. She was at _work_. Around _people_. She couldn't read this now! Adriana quickly stuffed the file in a corner of her desk and ran a hand sloppily over her face, suppressing a groan. _That was wrong_. _I can't look at that here_. Making sure no one saw her, she went back to work.

It was with a strange mix of anxiety and hope that Adriana looked at going home that day. Like the cliff-diver, she dreaded it and longed for it at the same time, because she knew exactly what would happen when she came home, but knowing didn't make the reality of it any pleasanter. Adriana did her best to mask what she was feeling, though. She packed up her stuff, quietly slipping the file into her regular bag, and left the bullpen normally enough. She even did the same leaving the FBI building. By the time was she near her home, however, Adriana found herself sprinting up the stairs to her door.

She jammed the keys in the lock with too much force, and practically crashed into her apartment when she flung open the door. She threw her bag across the room, where it landed with a smack on her couch, and after she nudged her cat off the coffee table, Adriana allowed herself to lie down and read the file again.

The creased and yellowed pages were even more tattered from being roughly stuffed in her go-bag. She turned the pages more carefully, trying to preserve each slowly fading word, and read it undisturbed for hours.

Finally, she noticed, it was almost time. She replaced any loose papers back in the file, and tidied it up. Then she sat up, back rigid but fingers trembling.

At precisely 8:43 pm on March 23, Adriana Messers let herself cry.

A long time ago, Adriana decided in a rational state of mind that tears were like currency, and they needed to be held in until an appropriate time. There was no use for them on normal circumstances, so on one day of the year, she withdrew all her saved tears and spent them. Really, Adriana wanted logic and empiricism to dissolve her tears into nonexistence, but she wasn't nearly impassive and unfeeling enough for that.

At first it was just silent tears that rolled down her face, but as certain memories smashed their way though her subconscious, her small body started to shudder with the violent sobs of all that she wanted to cry about, but never allowed herself to. She tried her best to stay upright, but ended up curling into herself like she always did.

_Ten years_… _It's been ten years. What can't I do anything right?_

And she cried because she was weak. Because she worthless. Because she deserved everything that happened to her. And even though this definitely wasn't her first time crying on March 23, nor would it be her last, she never found more to cry about before. She never hated herself more.

Adriana's cries grew louder and deeper, like they were threatening to rip out from her chest. She thought about the BAU, and how they tried to get to know her. They extended out introduction, and Adriana shot them down. And now they've given up on her. She hated them in that moment, for being friendly and then stopping. She hated JJ, who was right about them being good people. She hated the circumstances that made her join the BAU. She hated herself for being so pathetic that she couldn't trust people anymore, for being sacred all the time, but most of all, because she'd had ten years, and done nothing further for the file. It was a whole _decade_ since she had received it, the date exact to the last second, and she hadn't done _anything_.

Her cell phone's alarm sounded an annoying vibrating buzz. It was usually her signal to stop crying and straighten up. Instead, Adriana grabbed the phone and hurtled it across the room, where it smashed against the wall. She stayed on the couch, curled into the fetal position, until her sobs lessened and she fell asleep.

...

The harsh morning light found Adriana asleep in her clothes from last night, rumbled and tear-stained. Groaning as the light stung her raw eyes, she stumbled off the couch and into her room to change. Before she turned the corner, though, she looked back at the living room. The smashed cell phone lay pitifully on the floor, but the file was still perfectly in place.

Adriana looked at the file sitting on the table, the file that was the cause of so much of her agony, and wondered if it was worth taking around anymore. She was so tired of looking at it every time she felt weak, only to feel weaker. Adriana wasn't normally a quitter, but right then, she wanted to quit everything so badly. Her heart panged longingly at the thought of her obligations, her job, her fears, hell, even her life, just disappearing.

Instead, she carefully pinned up her hair again and went out the door so she wouldn't be late for work.

Whether she knew it or not, though, this was a step in the right direction.

...

"_Bear patiently, my heart- for you have suffered heavier things." _–Homer

* * *

A/N: Review if you like/hate angst! (either one, I'm not picky) Oddly enough, writing the angst was still fun. And sorry if this is kind of a tease, but her full story won't be revealed for awhile. Next chapter will begin a new case, and it's not as bloody as the last one, but it's weird as hell.

Songs Listened: I'm So Sick- Flyleaf, ¿Viva la Gloria? (Little Girl)- Green Day (ultimate angst bands)

Nuwanda31- thanks x the amount of times I used the word "angst" and how often it's going to reappear in this story (btw- that's a lot)


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: New case everybody! I hope you're enjoying my insanity, because my parents sure aren't. They're worried that I'm spending too much time on the computer. Maybe they think I'm watching porn or gambling or talking to predators. Oh, those poor fools. **

**Disclaimer: LESLIE MOONVES IS A MAN? WTF? Why didn't anyone tell me? It was sooo awkward when I showed up at his house and was like "Hi, I'm here to seduce you so I can ruin Leslie Moonves's life." But he was really nice about it, and understood the whole thing. I might even get a Christmas card from him. **

* * *

"_Everybody's a mad scientist, and life is their lab. We're all trying to experiment to find a way to live, to solve problems, to fend off madness and chaos."_ –David Cronenburg

...

Warner sighed as he ducked under the police tape. He lost count of how many times he had done that exact motion, but he was sure that the number would make him weary. He'd been doing this job for far too long.

"Any ID?" he asked his deputy. The deputy shook his head, and Warner sighed again. He strode into the crime scene with cynicism and apathy. The portly, graying fifty-something detective felt like he really needed a vacation.

"Another mugging-gone-wrong, Rich?" he inquired of the coroner. Warner knelt down beside him to where a body was slumped against an alley wall.

"Actually, Detective Brown, I think there's something weird with this one," the coroner replied.

Warner's ears pricked up, and he immediately became more focused. As awful as it was, muggings in this side of town weren't rare and certainly weren't interesting enough to make him take a second look.

Warner took a perfunctory glance at the body. White male, around fifty, mildly beaten, and quite obviously dumped. "What's so weird about it?" he asked. "Looks like some unlucky bastard got jumped."

The coroner shook his head and frowned. "No, it's definitely different. See this?" He indicated a black mark on the victim's sleeve. "It's actually a burn mark. Round. Probably made by some heated poker."

Warner conceded that it was strange. "So you're saying they had time to burn him? With a heated poker?"

"No, he's been dead for around a day. That accounts for the body not being found, but there are more…irregularities." Before Warner could ask, the coroner dived in. "The burn mark has to be around two days old, I can double-check that once we get him to the morgue. Also, these stab wounds on his legs and chest are several days older than the burn. They were healing, see? And there's a single gunshot wound to the shoulder."

"Jesus. So what finally killed him?"

"This is where it gets weirder. It wasn't the burn or the stab wounds or the gunshot. He was drowned."

"But his clothes are dry," Warner protested.

"Like I said," the coroner shrugged, "Weird."

Warner's deputy scurried over to him. "Detective, I remember another victim like this. She was found in Detective Garner's district. Exactly the same MO."

"So this means…" Warner trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it.

"Yes, sir," the deputy nodded. 'We have a serial killer."

...

When Garcia called everyone to the conference room, the agents came running in, practically panting at the opportunity to leave the office. Adriana came loping behind them, not nearly as eager to get on the plane.

"Babygirl, please tell me we're going somewhere warm and sunny," Morgan groaned as everyone took their places.

"No such luck, sugar. You're headed to Salt Lake City," she said.

"What's there?" asked Prentiss.

In answer, Garcia clicked the remote and two images popped up on the screen. Both were of a person slumped against an alley wall, dead.

"Two people, Mary Kellis and Jonah Bennet, were tortured and drowned, then dumped in alleys. Their belongings were found a couple blocks away each time."

Adriana frowned as she read the case file carefully. Only two victims and they were killed about three weeks apart from each other. How urgent was this?

Garcia continued, "Both of them were abducted and missing for two days before they were found. Kellis was last seen leaving work, and Bennet was returning home. Now, I've checked the list of missing people in Salt Lake City- a very long list, by the way- to see if I could spot the next person who could get snatched, but I didn't see anything unusual."

"Give us the list anyways," Hotch ordered. "We could use it to narrow down a victim pool."

"The torture's very erratic. The unsub could be in his experimentation phase, learning what kind is most pleasing to him," Reid stated. Medical reports were spread on the table in front of him and he pointed to each diagram of the bodies. "Mild bruising on the face, a single burn on the arms, a single gunshot to the torso, and several cuts," he listed. "It's like he's checking off an inventory of different torture methods."

"But then they're drowned," added Prentiss. "Drowning is very personal. How can someone so clinical and detached choose drowning as their method of killing?"

_Maybe the drowning is part of the inventory, too_, Adriana thought, but she bit back her statement from being said aloud. She didn't want to disturb the flow of ideas the other agents were conjuring up.

Hotch announced, "The unsub isn't due to kill for another three days, but he could just be warming up. There's enough at the current crime scenes to go off of, and since he seems to be in the early stages, we can hope for a slip-up. Let's find this guy before he abducts anyone else."

The agents understood that as a dismissal and gathered their belongings. Adriana sullenly collected her bag, not really enthusiastic to work on a case where they were supposed to be hoping for a "slip-up."

"Agent Messers, a word?" Hotch abruptly requested as she was about to leave. He sent Garcia a pointed look, and she knowingly scurried out of the room, but not before flashing Adriana an understanding look.

Adriana contemplated what that look meant and warily trudged up to him. "Yes, sir?"

Hotch looked the young agent up and down. To his mind, she looked like the same inverted person that sat nervously in his office for an interview. With her elbows resting at her hips and her shoulders pulled in, she gave off the same feeling of withdrawal that she sent towards the team. This had to stop.

"Messers, do you remember what I told you to do on the last case?" Hotch neatly stacked files and cleared the table while talking.

"Yes sir. You told me to trust my initial profile," uncertainty mixed in with her prompt reply. Adriana had a sinking feeling that this conversation wasn't going in a direction she liked.

"Then why did you stop yourself from saying something just now?" he asked shrewdly.

_He noticed that? _Then Adriana remembered, _Right. Profiler._

"Uh, I forgot." The truth was, she remembered perfectly what Agent Hotchner told her to do, but resolved then to keep her concerns to herself.

Hotch fixed her with a stern glare. "Messers, do you understand what it means to be part of a team?"

Adriana recoiled in astonishment at his threatening tone. "Well, y-yes I do, sir. I've been at the FBI for four years."

"Then you know that being on a team requires that you actually converse and interact with the other members."

The sharp words cut her deeply, and indignant anger frothed up in her chest. _Is he trying to forcefully integrate me into the team?_

"I wasn't aware that being sociable was a requirement for being a profiler," Adriana responded coolly. "…Sir." Her voice kept steady, but she had to ball her fists to prevent an outburst. The intrusion into her motives incited and frustrated her.

"It's not, but being willing to talk to the people on your team, the people who're supposed to have your back in case of anything, is. A team needs to communicate."

"So I'm in trouble because I don't talk enough?" she exacted, heating rising to her face.

"You're not in trouble; you're being informed. Please take what I said into consideration this time."

Adriana tried to retort that she couldn't be forced to talk, but Hotch swiftly left the room, leaving her alone to seethe.

Her fists unclenched, but the anger hadn't yet dissolved. Agent Hotchner didn't understand. He didn't know how hard it was for her, he didn't see the effort it took for her to come to work…but how could he? It's not like she was bursting to explain why she didn't want to get near people. _He probably thinks I'm just shy or aloof or something_, she concluded bitterly. Adriana hated that she felt compelled to distance herself from everyone. It's not like she chose to be afraid.

She tried to shake her head free of those thoughts, but it didn't work as well as shaking out nervous limbs, so she settled for sighing and heading to the plane.

At least this time she didn't get lost.

...

Sitting in the same spot as last time, Adriana sat quietly through another discussion. Hotch thankfully didn't send her any reminding glances, but his words still reverberated in her mind and made her open her mouth uncertainly several times, wondering if he expected her to add anything.

In the meantime, the rest pondered the case.

Morgan said, "I don't see how the unsub could've chosen these people. A thirty year old working mom and a fifty year old divorcee? They don't even live in the same area of the city."

"Maybe he's an opportunist," Prentiss suggested.

"Torture requires time," Rossi mused. "The unsub had to subdue them in some way in order to inflict this on them for days. Opportunists don't usually think things like that through."

"There could've been a ruse involved," Reid said.

Hotch looked doubtful. "A person this new at killing would have a tough time selling a ruse, especially one convincing enough to capture someone. They would be too eager for the torture to control themselves."

Adriana thoughtfully turned over the idea of a ruse. There was no evidence of any surprise attacks, so it was still possible. She looked back at the medical report to read off all the injuries again. As she listed them mentally- _bruising, burn marks, stab wounds, gun shot, drowning_- Reid's characterization of them as a checklist started to make sense. It was as if the unsub was trying to do a bit of everything. Twistedly experimenting before they decide on a signature. But what kind of killer was this controlled starting out?

Adriana was sure she wouldn't like the answer.

* * *

A/N: What kind of stupid name is Leslie anyways?

Review if you like Hotch chewing her out! Anyways, this is just a set-up chapter. We'll see Reid in the next one. Sorry for another OC-centric piece, but they're stopping soon, I swear.

Songs Listened: Aprés Moi- Regina Spektor

Nuwanda31- thanks x how many times my parents threatened to cut off my internet


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: My internet privileges have prevailed! …For now…**

**To all you reviewers- you are so nice and I want to get you all teddy bears or roses or something of an adorable variety. Basically, you all rock. You literally brighten my day. **

**If anyone's wondering, I'm not going to have quotes for every chapter, only when I think it's appropriate. Plus, that way it feels more like a regular episode. **

**Disclaimer: So I was informed by my good buddy Leslie Moonves (or as I call him, L-Mizzle) that it is in fact the Mark Gordon Production Company that I can demand the rights to CM from. So watch out Mark Gordon (IF THAT IS YOUR REAL NAME), because I'm coming for you. Be prepared. **

* * *

As Morgan predicted, Salt Lake City was cold- almost oddly so. The late March weather was not concerned with being kind to the residents or the visiting BAU team, preferring to send clouds across the sky and whipping up sudden gusts of cold. Whatever small buds that appeared on the emaciated trees, vainly hoping for an early spring, froze and wilted.

_Stupid groundhog was wrong_, Morgan grumbled to himself. He wanted warm sand beaches and bright blue skies.

Luckily, Adriana was ordered to go to the police department where temperature control existed. She accompanied Agents Reid and Rossi to start working victimology and learn more from the detectives. The large and official station stood in the center of the street, as far different from the tiny office that housed the Bemidji police department as possible. The agents were hurriedly introduced and then unceremoniously ferried to an interrogation room that would serve as their office.

All three of them looked at the room in dismay. The tiny, dark square of a room offered them personal space while it was only them inside. Adriana was momentarily horrified at the lack of room, and Rossi actually looked kind of affronted.

"_This_ is what we're supposed to work with?"

Reid shrugged and spread out the files he had been given across the narrow, metal table. He started organizing the different files into stacks. It's the best he could do without a board.

Rossi said, "I'm going to ask them for more information about where the victims were dumped." As he left the room, he muttered darkly, "And maybe rustle up some damn coffee."

That left Adriana alone in the room with Reid. He placed the files in piles only sensible to himself, and Adriana watched him flip them open and start reading their contents at lightening speed, wordlessly mouthing their information and turning pages within seconds. Adriana had never seen him read before. It sort of boggled her that anyone could possibly read that fast.

He looked too absorbed in his contemplations to be disturbed, so she decided to leave him alone. She quietly eased into a corner of the small room and was prepared to stay there until called upon, but Agent Hotchner's admonitions from earlier in the day floated back to the forefront of her thoughts. They hummed loudly like bees, and one sentence stuck out and churned over and over again.

"_A team needs to communicate." _

Adriana's indignant feelings briefly flared up again. What was Hotch going to do if she didn't talk? Fire her?

Suddenly, her anger was back snapped with a chilling thought.

He _could_ fire her. He very well could let her go if he didn't feel like she wasn't being a "team player" type. And if he did, Adriana's last chance to feel like her life was worthwhile would disappear.

Maybe it was Hotch emotionally blackmailing her, but she suddenly started to frantically look around for anything to talk about. Reid had a hold of all the files, and she didn't want to take one from him while he was still reading, so that was out.

Grasping for a conversation point, she asked Reid, "Are we not wanted here or something?"

Reid's head snapped up. He completely zoned out while he was reading. Plus, her ability to blend in with the background was uncanny.

"Sorry, what?"

"Do the police not want us here?" she repeated.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we were kinda shepherded into this back-room of a workspace," she indicated with a small wave of her hand at the place.

Reid straightened up from over the files. He answered in a sort of low, confidential tone, "Sometimes the officers feel like we're intruding on their case. They can be pretty territorial about it."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"It's usually a more common occurrence when we go to a large city with an established police and detective force." He gave a lopsided smile. "And when the case isn't too weird."

Adriana nodded and fell back. _There. I talked. _

Reid crinkled his eyebrows while studying her curiously. She barely said anything for over a month, and then suddenly initiated a conversation with him. Weird…

Still, he used the opening she gave him.

"What do you make of this?" he asked, handing her two photos of both crime scenes. They were angled on the positions victims' bodies. Mary Kellis laid on the ground, her arms twisted underneath her, while Jonah Bennet's back rested against the wall. All around them was the cramped space of the dirty ally.

"There doesn't seem to be any connection to assume he's posing them," Adriana hedged. "The unsub just looks like he's simply disposing of them. It has to be something in their torture and death."

Reid took out photos of the various torture marks to look them over. "Unfortunately," he said as he brought one of them closer to his face, "the two victims appear to be some kind of preliminary trial. Like test runs for the unsub." He searched for something to write with, forgetting that they were holed up in the tiny interrogation room. Without a board, he busily twisted his fingers. "This is a definitely a new killer," he concluded.

"But if he's just starting, we don't know anything about how he'll proceed," Adriana pointed out.

"Not without a third body," Reid acquiesced.

They turned back to the photos in their hands with the same grim look.

…

Hotch and Prentiss stood under the bright, orderly lights of the coroner's office.

"What can you tell us about the victims' wounds?" Hotch asked the medical examiner.

The man wiped his hands and snapped on a pair of gloves to touch the markings on the first victim. "First of all, the rate of healing shows that they were all inflicted at different times. The stab wounds were scabbing over by the time they were drowned."

"Timewise, how far apart would you estimate all the wounds to be?"

"I'd say that they'd have to be spread across two consecutive days."

Prentiss circled Kellis's body to find the bullet hole in her shoulder. The blackened mark stood stark against the woman's pale white skin. "This is from a close range," she gathered. "So the unsub is holding them in a secure location to torture them, but how is he restraining them? He needs to keep them in the same place for two days."

The examiner withdrew the sheet from her arm and pointed, "There. There's slight bruising on the wrists."

Prentiss bent over it. "What can it be from? It's too light to be from handcuffs or rope."

Hotch dismissed it for now. "Were you able to find what they were drowned in?"

"Unfortunately, it was just ordinary bathwater in their lungs. All of the city has the same. But Agent Hotchner, there's something else." The man handed Hotch a paper. "Both victims had been fed, and the toxicology report revealed that Mary Kellis had trace amounts of Rompun in her blood."

"The horse tranquilizer?" Hotch read. "Are we looking for a horse trainer or veterinarian?"

"Yeah, maybe. But typically horses are injected in the jugular vein. She was injected in the upper arm, and the mark was really small so I almost missed it." He passed over a tiny spot on her arm.

"And Jonah Bennet doesn't have this same mark?"

"No, he does, just no Rompun. I'm guessing he was injected too, just his body processed it more quickly."

Hotch turned to Prentiss and said, "So this unsub has some kind of connection to animal medicine."

"And both the victims were fed," Prentiss added dourly. "Either he wanted them to keep living so he could inflict more torture, or there's something else in his little routine that we don't know about."

…

Morgan walked into their makeshift office room and saw Reid, Rossi, and Adriana peering over files.

"Aw man!" he groused. "This place can barely hold three people. We're gonna have to take over someone else's room if we're gonna get any work done."

"Don't let them here you say that," Rossi warned. "They're not so friendly here."

"Why, they got somethin' to hide?" Morgan glanced over his shoulder at the busy room of police and saw that they'd been put as far away as possible.

Hotch and Prentiss entered, and the small room grew smaller still. Adriana pressed herself against the wall.

"The unsub is using the horse tranquilizer Rompun to subdue his victims," Hotch announced. "My guess is that he gets them within striking distance, attacks, and takes them away to his house."

One of the detectives appeared at the doorway. "Excuse me, may I talk with one of you?"

Morgan went out to speak with him, and Reid said:

"The problem with Rompun is that it isn't commonly known. When someone uses horse tranquilizers on people, it's generally Ketamine. In fact, Rompun is mostly used in conjunction with Ketamine in a mixture called 'the Hellabrunn Mixture.' The unsub definitely needs connections in animal medicine to acquire some."

"So are we looking for a veterinarian?"

Reid shook his head. "Vets don't normally keep large enough quantities of Rompun in their offices to knock out two fully grown people. We can try searching for someone who's been ordering larger than normal amounts."

"I'll call Garcia," Prentiss pulled out her phone. Before she could call, though, Morgan stepped back into the room with a strange look.

"Guys, we have someone who needs to talk to us," he said in a dazed tone, gesturing to someone outside the room.

"A witness?" Hotch asked.

"No," Morgan shook his head. "He has a story about the murders."

"The story's been leaked to the press? We need to get on this right away-"

"No," Morgan stopped him. "I mean a _story_. He received _stories_ about both murders. The unsub wrote them."

* * *

.

A/N: DUN DUN DUN! Review if you're liking this case so far! Sorry for the lateness.

Ok, so you how know at then end of this week's episode, Reid mentioned the movie "Solaris"? Well, that just happens to be MY FAVORITE MOVIE OF ALL TIME. I literally squealed with delight! As if I needed a reminder about how awesome he is. I can marry a fictional character, right? Awesome. (Happy Valentine's Day to me!)

Nuwanda31- thanks x the love I have for suspense


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Um, WOW. 50 reviews and its only chapter 13! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! And also thanks to the people who don't review, but still read. It means a lot to me. **

**I'm so sorry for the late update, but my parents are being mucho evil. Long story short, my internet only works at 1 am. 1 fucking am! And they're starting to wonder why I look sleep-deprived… **

**Disclaimer: I'm prepping my armies to besiege the mighty fortress of the Mark Gordon Production Company. The battle shall reign fierce, and the sky will be stained red with the blood of the slaughtered, but the side of justice, virtue, and imagination shall prevail! Death to copyright laws!**

* * *

Cory Malcolm nervously rubbed his beard as he faced the intently staring agents in the hallway. He couldn't help it. The guy just wanted to share something that might help his buddy John with a case, but now he was suddenly facing the FBI.

"Why don't you start off by telling us how you got this material?" Rossi suggested helpfully. Five of the BAU stood around him, while Reid was off in the other room, reading the stories. They hoped that he would find something useful in its pages.

Malcolm sighed and passed a hand through his beard again. "One month ago, of my editors came to me with this anonymous manuscript, saying that it had some freaky stuff in it. He's new and he's not used to reading weird stuff yet, so I took it."

"And was there anything that you found off about it?" questioned Hotch.

Malcolm shrugged. "When you're in the publishing business, you end up reading a lot of stuff that's 'off.' I read it, though, and it had some pretty tame torture scenes. I didn't think much of it, or of the book itself, and I couldn't find out who sent it in. I just ended up putting it in storage somewhere."

"What about the second manuscript?"

"That I got mailed to me directly two weeks ago. It was basically the same, had a couple chapters edited."

"Did the torture and murder scenes stay the same?" Morgan asked.

Malcolm paused, and thought. "Yeah, they did," he said slowly. "They were exactly the same, actually."

Hotch glanced at Morgan, and they shared a look.

"Are you sure about, Mr. Malcolm?" Morgan inquired. "We need to know if it was exactly the same."

"Maybe it wasn't word-for-word the same," Malcolm admitted, "but I remember that those parts with the torture and murder were just like they were in the first manuscript. The only stuff that changed was the plot around it."

"Do you have the name on the return address from the second manuscript?"

"Yeah, sure." He dug out a scrap of paper and gave it to Hotch.

Hotch nodded and said, "Thank you for your help, Mr. Malcolm." He handed it to Prentiss and told her, "Run this by Garcia. I doubt the unsub would use their real name."

He and the others went back into their room, but Rossi stayed behind. Something seemed fishy to him.

"Mr. Malcolm," Rossi asked suspiciously, "what made you bring these to the police if they're not the worst stories you've read?"

"Well, they're what's going on," Malcolm said plainly.

"Yes, but that's information that we haven't shared with the press yet." Rossi kept his voice light, but an intense look came into his eyes. "I'm wondering how you knew the specifics of a case enough to remind you of a story you read a couple weeks ago. You must read hundreds of different stories a week, right?"

Malcolm squirmed. "I, uh, well, I heard about the murders in the news-"

"I just said we haven't released any details about the case to the press, and you know that, Mr. Malcolm." Rossi's voice grew sterner. "I suggest you tell me how you are acquainted with the details of this case."

Malcolm sighed in frustration and exclaimed, "Oh my god, it's nothing! My friend John is on the force and we sometimes talk about work. When interesting cases come up, he tells me about them and I use them as story ideas. Is that so bad?"

"So you wrote the stories?" Rossi asked, eyes flashing.

"No!" Malcolm cried. He breathed in and dragged a hand across his beard again, trying to calm himself. "No, I didn't. I heard about the case from John, and it reminded me of the stories submitted. I dragged them out again and brought them here, because I thought they'd help. Ok?"

Rossi gave him a penetrating look that Malcolm shrank back from, but decided that he was telling the truth. He went back into the room, leaving the man in the hallway still anxiously rubbing his chin.

...

The team walked in and saw Reid speeding through pages of the second manuscript.

"What've you got so far, Reid?" Morgan asked.

"This was definitely written by the unsub, that much is certain," he muttered, eyes still fixedly trained on the pages. "The submission of each book coincides with each abduction and murder."

"How so?" Hotch asked.

"The book was always sent in two weeks before the murders occurred."

Morgan saw a look of uncertainty flash across Reid's face. "But?" he prompted.

Reid looked up with a conflicted expression. "Everything we assumed about the unsub may be wrong," he said.

"What makes you say that?" Rossi asked.

Reid turned back several pages and found a specific passage. "Here," he pointed. "Usually, torture is a sign of sadism, but there's nothing in the description of the murders that points to it. There're no signs of excitation, no overly descriptive passages about pleasure of the torture or the murders, and nothing about the pain the victims felt. In fact, they're very clinical and detached, just like the real killings are. Listen:" He read aloud, "'Bradley was stabbed with the knife in the leg a second time. Then it happened again later.' And then later," he flipped past more pages, "the drowning of the victim is recorded as 'he was held in the bathtub under the water until he stopped moving.'"

"So the unsub isn't a sadist, but he still tortures his victims," Hotch stated. "He must have some other motive."

Reid closed the book and faced them. "I think the unsub is a woman," he said bluntly.

All he got in reply was stunned silence.

He tried to explain. "The plot is a basic detective story. Each time torture or murder appears in the book, it's secondary to the actual plot. Sadist or not, a male unsub would fixate more on the torture and murder. He would talk about his dominance or triumph over the victims. This unsub only talks about events and places. She practically lists what happens to each victim. Everything except the Rompun matches exactly her MO."

Prentiss nodded slowly, starting to see his point. "Right. She's not experimenting with different techniques like we thought; she's sticking to the pattern she decided upon. She's following her own story." She pursed her lips and wondered, "Why, though? What's she getting from copying her own book?"

Morgan said, "Malcolm rejected both manuscripts, right? Maybe if her works have been rejected before, she wants literary attention. If she gets enough people to see what she's done, she'll feel like she's an accomplished author."

"So she'll be watching us," Rossi stated bleakly.

"Reid, what were the victims like in the books? Maybe we can determine victimology from that," Hotch said.

Reid shook his head and said, "Unfortunately, only two victims were mentioned. One was a middle-aged man and the other was a young woman, just like Jonah Bennet and Mary Kellis."

"So we don't know who she'll target next?" Prentiss asked, frustrated.

Adriana picked up one of the manuscripts and opened to a random page to see what Reid meant. Skimming through it, she got that there some detective, some race against time. Normal stuff. She skipped ahead to a page with its corner folded, and she could see that Reid was right. The unsub wrote about burning and bruising and drowning like it was a list. Completely emotionless. There was nothing about the victims crying or pleading, nothing about their pain. Like they were a plot device. Nothing more.

When she tuned back in, Hotch was giving them assignments.

"Morgan and Reid, go back over the abduction sites with the new information. See if we missed anything from before. Prentiss, coordinate with Garcia to search for anywhere else these books were sent to. Publishers, magazines, writing circles. We need to know how they've changed. Maybe there're more victims that haven't made it to the final drafts."

"By the way," Rossi said, turning to Hotch as the others left the room, "we might have a problem with the officers leaking the story after all. Malcolm found out about the case through his cop friend, and I'm pretty sure the others aren't so hesitant to talk either."

"Right," Hotch nodded firmly. He thought for a second and then his gaze fell on Adriana in the corner who was slipping back into reading the book. "Messers!" he called.

Adriana jumped. She was absorbed in the strange details of the case, and Agent Hotchner's voice startled her.

"Y-yes, sir?" she stammered, hoping that he wasn't going to reprimand her for being quiet again.

In fact, that was what Hotch was initially planning to do, but he got a better idea. "I want you to arrange a press conference with just the local medias," he said. "Tell them just the description and signs to look out for. Tell them to be vigilant about approaching strange women."

Before Adriana could even agree, Hotch added, "And give the unsub what she wants." With that, he and Rossi exited the room.

The tiny interrogation room was finally cleared of its compressing feeling with all the agents but Adriana gone. She shook her head to get her mind working again, but when it did, she could only think in tense fragments. _Ok. Press conference. Don't screw up. Local medias. Vigilance. Unsub. Wait, give the unsub what she wants? What does that mean? Gahh. _Her foot started jiggling out of nervousness again.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she had easily conducted press conference before. They were simply a way to get the public aware. To save lives. She would think of it like that, rather than it being her first time officially representing the BAU.

...

Lily Cambell was almost home, and she was so glad. The thirteen year old trudging home had stayed after school forever, and she was ready to sleep. The dumb school play wore her out. Her voice was gone, her feet hurt, and she was still only an alternate! Her life sucked.

The sun was setting later now, but the clouds overhead obscured it until it faded away. Early dusk was much darker for Lily than it was on normal days.

To her relief, she could see the porch light of her house not to far from her. It was bright, so bright against the falling darkness, even though it was only six o' clock.

She was so focused on getting home, she didn't hear the soft purr of an engine and tires behind her. They were coming in close.

...

"_One of the few good things about modern times: If you die horribly… you will not have died in vain. You will have entertained us."_ –Kurt Vonnegut

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A/N: Review if you want me to keep my internet! (Maybe my parents will listen to you guys)

Self-explanatory Disclaimer: Once again, I'm not a real psychologist, or anything similar, so basically everything I write is utterly imaginary. In fact, I haven't even gotten around to reading some book my friend lent me about basic psychology. Yep, you heard that right. I don't even know BASIC psychology. And I write CM fanficiton…. Fail. So if anyone notices incongruencies, point them out to me.

And now excuse me for a moment while I rant…..

WTF CRIMINAL MINDS? SEAVER IS ACTUALLY GOING TO BE A MAIN CHARACTER? DEAR GOD WHYYYY? NOBODY LIKES HER AND SHE IS SOOOO BORING. IT'S NOT EVEN THE FACT THAT SHE'S SOME OTHER BLONDE CHICK REPLACING JJ, IT'S THE FACT THAT SHE IS INCREDIBLY ANNOYING! AND IF HER FATHER WAS A SERIAL KILLER, HOW CAN SHE BE _THAT_ WELL-ADJUSTED? IT JUST MAKES NO PYSHCOLOGICAL SENSE. AND THIS IS A SHOW ABOUT PSYCHOLOGY!

….Whew. Ok. Done. If there are any Seaver fans out there, I'm sorry if I offended you. (And if you're pissed, vote on the poll on my profile)

Anyhoodles… I thought I would include that Rossi moment because last week's episode reminded me of what a badass he is.

Nuwanda31- thanks x the power of my freak outs. Which you know all about ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hi! I'm not dead! Sorry if you feel like it's been long since an update. (It has for me at least.) Damn SATs and other schoolwork have really pushed my story back. Let's hope all your waiting wasn't for nothing!**

**Disclaimer: The fortress of the Mark Gordon Production Company is on an island. I honestly wasn't expecting that. I'm going to need so many water-wings… *Plots thoughtfully* My plan to get the rights to CM may be deterred for awhile. **

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"_I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name."_

–Emily Dickenson

…..

It sort of astounded Adriana that she had never realized before how similar the vacant lenses of a camera was to the hollow barrel of a gun. As she stared down at it, the sudden, bright flash of a picture being taken startled her so much that she expected to hear the accompanying pop of a gunshot.

She was standing in front of the Salt Lake City Police Department Headquarters, freezing in the chilly evening air and waiting for the signal to begin delivering the profile to the press. There were about fifteen different press-people, but they were just crowding around the podium waiting, too. Something was holding them up, but it didn't stop one of them from getting in a random picture

She looked away from them and tugged anxiously at her shirt. She wanted to get this over with already. Prolonging the wait was only making her more insecure about delivering the profile. Whatever experiences Adriana had with giving press conferences started to dim in her memory. She had never had to alert people about a killer before. What if she said something and the unsub would get angry and take someone else? Would that be her fault?

Adriana resisted the urge to pace nervously, but gave up controlling her twitching hands. She could at least hide them from the press beneath the podium.

Finally, after the people below her started to shift around impatiently, an officer walked up to Adriana and handed her a note. She couldn't recognize whose handwriting it was, but she assumed it was from one of the BAU. It was infuriatingly short. All it said was: _Girl kidnapped two hours ago- Lily Cambell (13). 4'6, brown hair, brown eyes. If mentioned, focus on returning her. _

Adriana felt sickened. A little girl was taken, and she knew exactly what the unsub would be doing to her. Then she frowned as the information filtered through her mind. This was a radical change in victimology. From what she knew of the unsub, it didn't make sense for her to suddenly take someone that didn't appear in her stories. Maybe there was an obscure reference to the girl somewhere in the books.

Suddenly, she felt the gaze of the press swivel around to surround her. She forced herself to begin talking before the claustrophobia could tighten her chest and paralyze her speech.

"Thank you all for coming," Adriana began. "Before I explain who we're looking for, I would like to call everyone's attention to the disappearance of thirteen year-old Lily Cambell. She has brown hair and brown eyes, and she went missing around six o'clock. If anyone has seen her please alert us."

"Is she connected to the recent murders?" asked someone below.

"We're not certain of that yet," Adriana answered smoothly. "For now, we're just trying to return her to her family." She took a deep breath, and behind the podium her hands contorted around each other nervously.

"We believe the person responsible is a white female, between the age of forty and fifty. She probably drives a van, and she's been taking people from suburban areas around evening." As she kept talking, her back unconsciously straightened, and her voice grew louder. "The reason we are informing the public is so everyone is extra vigilant about approaching this woman. She may be getting people alone with a ruse, like saying asking people to help her find a lost child or pet. We ask that you all exercise more caution in talking to strangers, even if they appear harmless."

Something told her she was missing something… _What did Agent Hotchner say? Give the unsub what she wants?_

Adriana quickly understood and continued, "This case has been especially…noteworthy to the FBI because of its unique circumstances. Both Jonah Bennet and Mary Kellis were killed in a replication of murders described in a crime novel. They are, um, complex and intelligent kills. We, uh, that is, the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit asks that the author please contact us. We believe they could_ invaluably _assist us." Adriana grimaced inwardly, not wanting to think of the unsub's satisfaction at hearing this.

Inside the building, Rossi watched a TV monitor that was broadcasting the press conference. Morgan wandered over and stood beside him.

"How's she doing?" Morgan asked, jerking his head towards the screen.

"Pretty good," Rossi answered mildly. "I thought she'd be… you know."

Morgan nodded. Rossi thought she would appear more nervous, and truthfully, he expected that too. They watched Messers evenly complete the profile and add in the compliments to the unsub.

"Yeah, she's pretty good," he muttered in agreement. But as they both continued watching, they couldn't help but see the blonde haired press-liaison still fresh and raw in their memories. Their friend and partner who used to be the face on the TV and the voice on the news.

…

As soon as she saw the cameras click off, Adriana stepped away from the podium and practically ran towards the building, not caring who saw her hasty exit. No one did though, for the media people outside were buzzing with the information she had given them. The murders were based on a book? Shocking! It was front-page worthy. This would go out all over the city by morning. Adriana hoped the attention would be enough for the unsub to spare anyone else. Especially Lily Cambell.

The warmth inside the station surrounded her when she pushed past all the doors. Her shaking hands lessened somewhat away from the cold air. Through the maze of offices and cubicles she walked, returning to the interrogation room the BAU was inhabiting. She stood outside the door, dreading going inside and being confronted with their stares. She hoped none of them saw the press conference.

Agent Hotchner seemed to be waiting for her arrival. Immediately when she entered the tiny room he faced her. "We didn't discuss the possibility of the unsub using a ruse," he said, standing firmly in her direction.

"What?" Adriana asked, bewildered.

"In the profile that you just gave to the press, you said that the unsub may be using a ruse to attract victims. I would like to know how you reached that conclusion, seeing as none of the rest of the team discussed it." The reproach and irritation in his tone was not concealed at all.

"I, um…" She thought back to when she was delivering the profile, but there wasn't a moment she remembered thinking about things the team missed. "I must have added it in without thinking," she supposed. Feeling their eyes on her, her gaze went down to the floor and she badly tried to keep her hands from fidgeting.

"We cannot announce anything new to the public without going over it," Hotch impressed. "Do you understand? We can't risk-"

"Hotch," Prentiss called, wanting him to stop agitating the agent. They had other things to do.

Hotch's tone let up some. "I need to know why you said that," he told Adriana. "Do you think she's using a ruse?" He knew if Messers didn't have a solid argument for it they'd have to do some damage control, and they just didn't have the time for that.

"I-I, it seemed to make sense once we learned about the unsub's stories. The fact that she targeted people that resembled people she wrote about means that she planned the abductions. She probably planned what she was going to say to them beforehand. She's more organized than we previously thought."

"She's right, Hotch," Rossi intoned. "The stories change how we have to look at the victimology." He chuckled darkly. "Besides, it's not like she could've sneak-attacked the male victim. She had to approach them in order to subdue them."

Hotch turned away, secretly pleased that Messers defended herself. "Reid, were you able to find anything on the map?" he asked.

Adriana kept herself from sighing out of relief from being spared an inquisition. She took a step farther into the room and saw a map of the city lying on the table. It had different colored circles over several areas.

Reid leaned over the map. "I added in the places where the victims' belongings were found. Because of their placement, I think they were supposed to be forensic countermeasures. Each place ended up several blocks away from where each victim was dumped."

"Ok, more organized it is," Morgan noted. "What else?"

"The two abduction sites are far away from each other in the city," he said, touching both points. "Lily Cambell was kidnapped from a suburban neighborhood." He stuck a pin into the girl's street.

"Are we assuming Lily Cambell was taken by the unsub?" Prentiss asked. "Reid said there's no girl like her in the books, and nothing about the timeline matches. The unsub was supposed to wait another two weeks before abducting another person."

"Maybe she's devolving?" Adriana piped up.

"After only two victims?" Morgan disparaged. "Serial killers usually devolve after they start to crave more challenging and exciting kills, or if something happens to damage their signature."

"Exactly. Two weeks after sending in a manuscript, she would kill someone. But maybe after revising her book and being rejected twice, she thought she needed to take more drastic measures to be noticed." Adriana suddenly blanched. "Oh no," she breathed. Suddenly Lily's situation became all the more dire.

"What is it?" Prentiss questioned.

"Lily Cambell has only eight pints of blood in her body," Adriana said, biting her lip. Her foot started to wiggle nervously. _Damnit, not in front of people! _

"Um... what?" Prentiss said blankly, failing to see the message.

Reid understood. "If Lily Cambell was taken by our unsub, she would've been subdued with Rompun. Assuming that she's using an average medical syringe, she would've had a maximum capacity for ten milliliters of the drug, which is enough to knock out an average-sized adult within two minutes. Adults have about ten pints of blood in their bodies. A thirteen year-old with less than half of the body mass of an adult and only eight pints injected with the same amount of Rompun can experience respiratory depression within the hour."

"What's that mean?" Morgan asked.

"It means that her lungs could fail," said Adriana softly.

…

Lily stirred and shook her head groggily. Her neck ached and her vision was spotted until the black dots receded from before her eyes. As her vision returned, she could make out only a wide, dark room. She tried to remember what happened, but could only conjure up dark, shapeless images. There was a women…and a dog…no, no dog…a leash? Then something stabbed her arm…and that's when she felt like she was falling.

Shifting slightly, Lily noticed that she was sitting in a chair but she couldn't move. When her legs didn't swing out from under the seat like she thought they would, she looked down breathlessly and saw thin plastic bands holding her ankles to the chair's legs. Similar ones restrained her wrists at the arms of the chair.

Panic rose in her throat as she tried to twist her body, but couldn't move at all. The chair didn't even twitch as she tried to kick her legs out of the bands. All that happened was that the skin around her ankles was rubbed raw.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Lily couldn't make out anything distinct. It was a small windowless room. There was a door on the farthest wall from her, but it seemed like there was nothing else besides her. All alone, she sat frozenly while her heart began to race and her throat tightened in terror.

There she sat for what felt like hours in her befuddled and frightened mind until she heard hurried steps. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _Someone was descending down the stairs.

The door across the room swung open. Lily felt her heart beat furiously as terror pumped its way through her body. A person shrouded in darkness approached her quickly.

"Hello," a woman's voice cooed. Lily's blood froze. It was the same woman who stopped her as she was going home! She asked Lily to help look for her dog, but Lily tried to say that she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers. She turned around, and then…something happened. She couldn't remember what.

The woman stopped directly in front of Lily so she could feel her presence. In the darkness, she couldn't see any of the woman's features. All she could see was that she was holding something. A pen?

"I think this will work out well," the woman mused aloud. "Kids always pull on people's heartstrings."

She slid something against Lily's leg so quickly, she didn't feel it at first. Then pain suddenly radiated from the spot as blood blossomed out of a long, vertical cut. Lily screamed as the sharp stinging only worsened and a red stain spread across her pants.

"Well?" the woman asked intently, peering into Lily's face as though it held some kind of secret. She put down the blood-covered blade and picked up her notebook and pencil again.

"I'm bleeding!" Lily screamed. "Help me!"

"No, no," the women shook her head. "You have to tell me how you _feel_."

"It hurts!" she shrieked, thrashing against the bindings. Her panicked movements only tore open her deep cut further. The skin of her wrists chafed harshly against the plastic bands.

The women rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I know that already. But tell me _how_ it feels." Her pencil tapped against the notebook.

"It hurts!" Lily started to cry. Tears leaked out of her eyes, and the women nodded encouragingly.

"Yes, tears, that's better. Now how does it _feel_?"

Lily shook her head, tears flying across her face. "It hurts," she moaned again. She was scared and confused and her leg felt like it was being peeled open. The blood from the cut was starting to drip onto the floor. She could feel it slither warmly down her leg.

"No!" the women cried with a sudden rage. "Stop saying that! I need you to describe, to rhapsodize! Feel the emotions and tell me what they feel like! Inspire me!"

As Lily opened her mouth to gulp in air, the women slapped her across the face. Lily's head snapped to the side and then bobbed back to the center of her chest. The stinging blow made her head pound. Her crying tapered off. Her leg was still throbbing in pain, but the blood stopped being flowing out as quickly. She felt lightheaded, like she didn't have enough to breathe. Her inhalations grew shallow and labored.

The last thing she heard before she blacked out was the furious scratching of the pencil on the notepad.

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A/N: Whew, my longest chapter yet! Review if I should keep the girl alive! (mwa ha ha)

*Sigh* I miss Prentiss already. I'm so glad I wrote my story when she's still at the BAU and still graces us with her presence. I will never write her out of my story, rest assured. Here's to hoping that she comes back soon!

So now that the SATs are (presumably) over, expect faster updates. (Unless I decide to be jerk. Which is entirely possible.)

Nuwanda31- thanks x my confusion at last night's episode. Seriously, was anyone else as weirded out as I was? Spy stuff on a crime show felt strange to me.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Well, you guys have spoken. I'll let the little girl live. (Dagnabbit! I wanted some bloooooddd!) Anyways, remember when I said that I would be able to write more since the SATs are over? Well that was a dirty, rotten, blasphemous lie. It's AP testing season, folks, and my teachers are working me like slave drivers ("Finish analyzing rhetoric in this speech, infidel!" "Write a DBQ about the consequences of the Cold War!" *whips suffering students*). I've got a whole month of practice tests ahead of me, so I'll do my best to get chapters out on time, but no promises. **

**Disclaimer: So L-Mizzle told me that Mark Gordon only gives CM rights to men because he's misogynist (Obviously. After all, look what he did to AJ Cook and Paget Brewster!). My new plan is to disguise myself as a boy, sneak into his company, and steal them. And possible change some scripts to include that I get casted into the show. **

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Lily was waking up and dimly felt someone tipping her head back. Before she could even open her eyes, she felt the cool rush of water gliding down her parched throat. The instant relief was so shocking, she bolted awake and spluttered on the liquid, nearly choking on it.

Straightening up, she coughed harder, the gasping motion only reminding her of the position she was in. Her arms and legs were still tightly bound to the chair with the plastic bands that were still digging into her skin. She looked down, and her entire left leg was covered in red. The long gash in her thigh didn't hurt much anymore, but she was cautious to move. She closed her eyes, wanting the all too real nightmare to go away. Behind her eyelids, she sensed it had gotten brighter. She heard the crackling of a nearby fire.

"Now, now," tutted a voice in front of her, "you have to drink it all."

Jerking up painfully, Lily's eyes flew open as she finally saw her captor.

It was definitely the woman who tried to talk to her last night before she blacked out. Lily hadn't seen her properly then, so she didn't expect her to look so… ordinary. She was medium height and had short, limp hair that was starting to gray. She had to be about forty, but there were pronounced lines around her mouth that made her appear older. She looked like an elementary school teacher, or one of those older ladies who wore cat sweaters. She was even smiling friendlily

But the thing in her appearance that terrified Lily was her eyes. There, she stopped looking nice. The eyes were black, and seemed to be flat, soulless, and impenetrable. She looked at Lily with a revolting amount of pride.

"Oh, this was such a good idea," she said to herself with delight. She held up the water bottle again, and Lily saw she was holding the notepad in her other hand.

Lily twisted her head away from the water, refusing to drink anything the woman offered. Fear seized her heart again as she started into the flat eyes. "I want my mom," she whimpered.

The woman instantly put the water down and scribbled down Lily's response. "Yes, good."

"I want my mom," Lily repeated louder.

The woman smiled at her apologetically, "I'm sorry sweetie, not until we're done here. We still have lots to do." She sounded as if she had a busy day of tough work ahead.

She moved away towards a fireplace and left Lily alone for the moment. Bright light streamed down from a single, small window that she hadn't noticed before, so Lily was finally able to see the room that held her.

It was unquestionably an old basement. All it had was a smooth stone floor and stained drywall and a pervading smell of mold and dampness. It was empty except two chairs, one of which was holding Lily. The only fixture that appeared well-kept was a fireplace that was currently roaring with life.

From the window's light, she figured it had to be morning. _Maybe_, she thought_, if I shout loud enough, someone outside the window will hear me_. She was too afraid to try, though, and the enclosed room grew hotter. Lily apprehensively wondered why there was a fire burning.

She stopped wondering- and stopped breathing as well- when she saw the woman dip a long poker into the fire, letting the lapping flames heat up the blackened metal.

"No…" she whispered.

...

The BAU were assembled in the police station by late morning. All of them had slept in after a stressful night of trying to find connections between the unsub's books and Lily Cambell. Adriana was mad at herself for sleeping in while somewhere the thirteen year-old girl was being tortured. She should've stayed up all night. All she accomplished so far was not finding any indication in the books where Lily was being held.

They stood around the interrogation room, all vainly examining something. As usual, Adriana pressed herself into the corner while rereading the file on Jonah Bennet. She was hoping that the original murders would reveal something.

Morgan's cell phone rang, and he quickly flipped it open. "Babygirl, please tell me you have something," he sighed. He knew they were getting nowhere without her help.

"My beauties, I come bearing bad news, goods news, and interesting news," Garcia announced through the phone. "Which would you prefer first?"

"Bad news first," Hotch said.

"Way to be a negative-nancy, Bossman," she quipped. "Well, the bad news is that when I traced the name and address the publisher guy gave you, it came up as a fake, just like you so smartly suspected. All I could find connected to it was a PO Box that's rented out monthly in cash."

"You can't find out who it belongs to?" Prentiss asked.

"I'm getting there, hold your horses," she said peevishly. "Now, the good news is that, after scouring the entire city's veterinary clinics or care places, I found only three places that were ordering more Rompun than the daily recommended dosage. Like up to _three times_ more. So I checked them out, which leads us to our interesting news." She sat back from the keyboard, satisfied. It was times like this when she absolutely loved her job.

"The interesting news, Garcia?" Morgan said.

"Oh, you guys are going to love this. The PO Box of one of the animal hospitals that has been ordering extra Rompun is the _exact same one _as the one I found from the fake name. Meaning-"

"Meaning that the unsub used the PO Box to send the manuscripts anonymously and retrieve the Rompun." Hotch finished. "Good work, Garcia."

"Much obliged," she beamed and disconnected.

"We have to get to that animal hospital right away," Morgan said.

"Reid, Messers, stay here in case you find out anything new," ordered Hotch.

Reid nodded and turned back to his maps and diagrams, but Adriana wasn't as placid. She wanted to protest staying in the interrogation room for any longer. Staying cooped up in it was giving her a nervous feeling that wouldn't allow her to get anything done. Unfortunately, the older agents and detectives left too quickly for her to say anything.

...

People looked on strangely as three large and imposing black SUVs screeched to a halt outside of one of Salt Lake City's animal hospitals, the Sugar House Clinic. It was a small building inconveniently located in the center of the city. Bystanders watched with more curiosity as people with "FBI" emblazoned on their bulletproof vests strode out of the cars and into the clinic. Some people even peeked through the glass windows to catch the action going on inside.

Hotch didn't register the stares as he walked up to a passing vet. "Excuse me, Miss," he said in a low tone, flashing his credentials to assure a speedy response. "Can you tell me how many women work at this office?"

The vet stopped in her tracks, surrounded by FBI and detectives. "Not many," she replied. Her aqua-colored scrubs and the clipboard she held indicated that she was in the middle of working. "There are actually more male veterinarians here."

"Then do you know who here has access to Rompun?" he asked.

The vet looked startled. "Well, everybody does. We use it a lot to subdue the bigger animals." Her eyes darted back and forth worriedly, and she lowered her voice. "Look, if this is about drug smuggling or trafficking, our office has very strict policies against that. We have sign-out sheets for all out sedatives and other drugs to monitor the amount each doctor uses."

The agents considered this. If the office had such tight regulations, how did the unsub manage to obtain enough Rompun for three people?

"Who usually places your orders?" asked Rossi. "Do you have a secretary, or assistant, or…?"

"Oh, that's Miss Moss," the vet said. "She's our secretary. She orders everything and handles paperwork."

"And she has the key to the PO Box?"

"Yeah, I guess so," she shrugged. The agents' questions were starting to puzzle her. "Uh, what's this about exactly?"

Hotch glanced at Rossi for a moment, wordlessly asking if he thought they should explain. Rossi's eyes answered negatively. "We really need to know where Miss Moss is right now," he said urgently. "Is she at lunch or on a break?"

"No, she took the day off. She's been taking a lot of days of this month, actually…"

She directed them to Moss's desk. Prentiss and Morgan immediately started digging through the clutter of files and loose papers.

"I found a recent order form for the Rompun!" Prentiss said a few moments later. She shoved aside other stacks of papers to free the sheet, and brought the form to the vet to examine. "Is this the normal amount of Rompun that you order?"

The vet read it over. "No," she said, a confused look settling on her face. "We usually order half this amount. This doesn't make sense. I haven't even seen any extra Rompun in the drug cabinet."

"Hotch!" Morgan called. He emerged from below the desk, holding a familiar manuscript. "I found a copy of one of the books. She's got to be the unsub."

...

Joanna Moss observed the girl passed out in the chair. Again, she commended herself on her good choice of helper. The child yielded much better words than the other two had. After she revised her book again, this time adding in a little girl whose life was in jeopardy, no one would ever dare call her writing "flat." Fury clouded her thoughts when she remembered that very rude letter one publisher sent her. He said she needed to improve her writing style! He said it was emotionless! The nerve! Joanna worked to ignore him, but none of the other publishers responded to her.

_Well, I showed him_, she thought firmly as she set down the still-warm poker. _My new book will get everybody's attention._

Joanna looked down again at the girl. The thing probably passed out from shock or something. No matter. The girl didn't have to be up for a while, so she could stay out. Right now, though, she should probably go to the post office and get more Rompun. She couldn't risk the girl yelling. Little girls had such shrill voices, after all.

Joanna swept out of her basement. Around her, the smell of burnt flesh swirled at her exit.

...

Back at the station, Reid was twirling a pencil, absently making it disappear and reappear over and over, while he studied the maps. Adriana didn't notice the deft movements of his fingers because she was busy staring at pictures of Lily's neighborhood.

She was originally trying to find any similarities between it and the original crime scenes, but she got caught up in her imagination again by vividly envisioning how the girl disappeared. In her mind's eye, she saw the unsub approaching the unsuspecting girl, appearing harmless and friendly. Then she suddenly struck with the syringe of Rompun. Maybe Lily tried to get away as her body succumbed to the powerful drug. In Adriana's vision, Lily would stumble and collapse on the sidewalk, her small body keeling over helplessly. Then the unsub would pick her up and load her into the car. And then Lily would be gone.

Somehow knowing (or at least imagining) what happened made it easier for Adriana to compartmentalize. By viewing the abduction in scenes, she was able to close off her emotions more effectively and actually profile.

Suddenly, Reid's phone rang. "Yeah, Hotch?" he answered. "Where?" He instantly turned to the map. He found a point on it and jabbed it with his finger. "Yes, we're close. We'll meet you there." He closed the phone and answered Adriana's questioning look with, "We have an address."

The two agents ran outside to the remaining SUV, both of them hurriedly strapping on the required FBI vests. Reid beat her to the driver's seat.

"Wait," she said before he started the car, "don't we need backup?" It wasn't FBI protocol, but it was common sense for every agent.

"They'll be there," he said in a rushed tone. Adriana decided he was right, figuring he was too smart to get into dangerous situations.

The address Hotch gave them was located in the suburbs, only ten minutes from where Lily Cambell was abducted and fifteen from the police station. Reid didn't consider the option that the abduction site was in the unsub's comfort zone at first. The geographic profile implied that the unsub would strike again in the city. But when Messers suggested that the unsub was devolving more quickly than they believed, Reid could see how it made sense that Lily was taken. How was Messers able to see that before he did? It didn't annoy him as much as it confused him how the younger agent came to the conclusion first. As Reid thought, he stopped paying as close attention to his surroundings. He didn't notice Adriana gripping her seat armrests in fear as the large car took a sharp swerve.

In no time, they reached the suburbs, and Reid halted the car before a house. Both of them jumped out and slammed the doors shut. There was no car in the driveway, but they cautiously drew their firearms anyway. Reid started advancing to the front door, his gun clutched safely by his side.

Adriana stopped. "Are you sure this is it?" The house just seemed so normal to her. It was a small, one-story place with slightly overgrown grass and whimsical tinkling wind chimes on the front porch.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Reid said, turning his attention to the door. It was locked. He pushed hard against the door with his shoulder to check if it would give way, but nothing happened.

"I'll go around back," Adriana suggested. She ran around to the side of the house and hopped a short wire chain fence that enclosed the backyard.

Reid realized with a start that he needed to follow her. He knew what could happen to an agent who was alone.

She was trying the back door when Reid jogged up to her. She unlocked the screen door easily and pushed the actual door open. It swung in with a long, squealing creak. The two agents instantly put up their weapons.

They advanced carefully into the hallway, making as little noise as possible. The whole interior of the house was covered with floral wallpaper and old-fashioned trims. If Adriana wasn't currently distracted with finding a missing girl, she would've found the decorating very annoying.

"Lily," she called softly. "Lily Cambell, are you here?"

"I don't think the unsub's here," Reid said. "Try calling louder."

"Lily!" she yelled. "Lily, answer us!" She gazed all around and listened intently for the faintest voice or whisper.

No answer.

_Now, if I was a sociopathic unsub who used to be organized and careful, but recently had a complete break with reason, where would I keep a girl captive?_ She looked around, and saw that the house had too many windows. It was far too visible for a person to be hidden. There had to be some other place.

Reid seemed to read her thoughts. He whispered, "Basement," nodding towards a door. Adriana didn't ask how he knew that it was a basement and not a closet, but she tried the door anyways. It was strongly locked.

"Come on," she muttered, desperation seeping into her voice. She rattled the doorknob fervently as if it would magically open. "Come on!" she now shouted. The door remained closed. "Lily! Lily Cambell, can you hear me?" she kept yelling.

Reid watched in shock as the normally withdrawn and soft-spoken agent started forcefully kicking the door at its hinges and bashing her whole body into the hard wood with resounding slams.

"Where are they?" she cried, turning furiously to Reid. "Shouldn't they be here by now?"

"They're coming," Reid said as calmly as possible. His eyes betrayed his own worry, though. He wanted the rest of the team to come soon. And he wanted to do something to halt Messers's increasingly desperate and forceful slams on the door.

"Stop, ok?" He placed an arm over the door to block another assault on it. "This door is about 6 feet by 2.5 feet," he observed. He pressed an ear to the wood and knocked, listening for the echoing sound. "It's hollow." He stood back and thought rapidly. "This house looks around sixty years old, so it's probably reinforced by a steel frame on the other side. Assuming an average resistive weight of 27.23 kilograms, we need to apply 684 newtons of force."

"684 newtons?" Adriana quickly calculated and reconverted the number to real weight and speed. She stepped back a few paces.

"Yes. Wait, what're you-"

Adriana backed up, took a running start, and crashed herself into the door with a loud bang. It finally swung away from its hinges. What she didn't expect, however, were the steep steps going down to the basement. She fell through the doorway and tumbled painfully down the stairs to the even harder stone floor. Her arms shot out to break the fall.

"Aghhh…" Her knee hit the floor too hard, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Reid hurried down. "Are you ok?" he asked, at the same time wondering why she did something so stupid.

Adriana winced, but waved away his efforts to help her up. "I'm fine. Do you see Lily anywhere?" She limped up to stand and held her gun at the ready again.

Looking around, the agents' eyes adjusted to the darkness. A beam of sunlight from a small window threw a spotlight into the basement, making it their only hope for vision. Reid remembered the flashlight just then.

He fished it out of his pocket and turned it on, holding it against his gun. The strong light shone into all the corners of the blackened room. They finally saw her hidden deeply in the back.

Lily was slumped against her bindings. Her head hung down limply and her torso tried to lean forward, but it was stopped by the bands around her wrists. But that wasn't what made Adriana's heart freeze. It was the blood-stained floor around the chair. The stone floor soaked up the blood, making it look like a dried-up pool surrounding the unconscious girl.

They raced to her, Adriana ignoring the stinging pain in her knee. Her gun clattered to the floor as she sank down to the side of the chair and pulled fiercely at the tight plastic bands on Lily's ankle.

"Her pulse is slow," Reid stated quickly. He let go of the small wrist and tried tugging the bands off too. "We need scissors or wire cutters for these."

"Help me get them off!" Adriana pressed. Her hands were shaking as she kept fumbling and pulling the restraints. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the cool and rational Adriana was trying to dictate her actions and remain calm, but normal Adriana never had a victim who could slip into shock and die at any moment.

She grabbed Lily's face in her shaking hands. It was deathly pale. "Lily! Wake up!" she practically screamed in the girl's face. She needed to know if she had passed out from blood loss or was experiencing lung failure from an overdose of Rompun.

Reid tried to pry her restless hands off the victim to avoid any more injuries. "The rest of the team is coming. We'll get her out."

"Her chest isn't moving! What if she's going through respiratory depression?"

"The paramedics are on their way," he assured her.

Adriana didn't care. She kept pulling at the bands and pressing Lily's chest even when the sound of blaring sirens grew louder.

…...

"_I see the game now. You can't write with ink, and you can't write with your own heart's blood, but you can write with the heart's blood of some one else. You have to be a cad before you can be an artist." _

–"The Plutonian Fire" by O. Henry

* * *

A/N: Review if you liked this case! But don't worry if you thought the ending was unresolved; I'm not leaving you hanging here. Next chapter will be a short wrap-up, and then we start to get into the fun stuff like characters and stuff. And angst. Loads and loads of entertaining angst. Hooray!

See that O. Henry quote? It's what inspired this whole idea. Writing in someone else's blood made me think of literally using people for story inspiration and boom! Twisted case-fic popped into my head. That's how it usually happens for me. My next case for the BAU is severely creepy and takes place somewhere really famous, and I can't wait to write it! Rest assured, it will be pretty damn awesome. Alas, it won't be up for a while.

Math people who will barrage me about using "newtons" in the wrong context- shut the hell up. Stop being so mean to the mathematically challenged and go do some algorithms or something. (Yeah, I'm not nearly as good at math as Adriana is. Me, jealous? pssh)

By the way, what the vet said about there being more males in the profession isn't true. I just made it that way for the story. Actually, about 85% of veterinarian students are women. Because we're awesome.

Song Listened: Mercy- OneRepublic

Nuwanda31- thanks x my growing excitement for the upcoming season premiere of Doctor Who. (this is pretty much how I react every day to the trailer- OH MY GOD HE WAS IN AMERICA HE TOUCHED THE SAME THE SAME GROUND I TOUCHED HE BREATHED THE SAME AIR I BREATHED OH MY GOD WHAT IF I INHALE THAT SAME AIR OH MY GOD I CAN'T WAIT ANY LONGER )


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hi! Remember me? The very very bad updater? Yes, that's me. I'm sorry. Spring just sucks. Allergies, hay fever, and no time to write at all. **

**As promised, this chapter is a shortie, but it's definitely lighter than the last one. Sort of. It goes somewhere, though, I promise. Because of unfortunate scheduling, I didn't really have time to review it over, so if it sucks, let me know!**

**Disclaimer: Apparently my boy disguise did not go over well with Mark Gordon. He saw right through it. It's probably because that jerk inherently hates anything effeminate. (Plus I sort of forgot to adjust my pants before I infiltrated his company. They may have been too tight to be boys' pants… and maybe too short as well). So currently my quest to attain the CM rights is at a standstill. **

* * *

"_But they whose guilt within their bosoms lie /Imagine every eye beholds their blame"_ –William Shakespeare

…

Never had the plane's seats looked so comfortingly inviting to Adriana. Granted, it was only her fourth time on the jet, but each time before she had been fraught with anxiety. Each time nerves put her on edge enough for her not to notice how cushy and welcoming the seats actually were. Now that she was weighed down with exhaustion and oncoming sorrow, she sank gratefully into the spot.

It was going to be a long flight home, and she really needed the sleep.

The case was closed. Joanna Moss had been apprehended at the post office where Hotch had wisely sent a few officers to stand watch over Sugar House Clinic's PO Box. Apparently, she wanted to restock her supply of Rompun before returning to finish off Lily. It turned out that Moss never saw Adriana's broadcasted press conference. She never heard their fake plea for help and never got an ego boost that might have made her release Lily early.

Adriana's head pounded painfully at the thought of Lily. It just wasn't fair.

After the plane took off, she rested her head against a cold window and prayed for a little respite. She wasn't sure if sleeping was allowed on the plane, but she stopped caring when her eyelids started to droop heavily. Respite was not what she got, though.

When she finally started dozing, flashes of the blood stained floor and the chalk-faced played in her mind. For a moment, she was back in that basement and fear was making her heart beat wildly.

Then, just as suddenly, she woke up curled tightly in the seat with her forehead chilled from resting on the window. The sense of terror abated, leaving her heart rate at normal. To her disgust, she saw that she only slept less than an hour. A very low groan emitted from her throat.

Adriana tried to look around inconspicuously to see if anyone seemed disapproving of her sleeping. It looked like she had nothing to fear. Prentiss was reading a book, Hotch was talking on his phone, and Morgan and Reid were playing cards. But Rossi, who sat nearest to her, was giving her an odd look.

Adriana looked down in embarrassment and busied herself with the stack of files in her bag. She should have started reviewing them and deciding where the BAU would travel next. It was what Agent Hotchner assigned her to do, anyway.

Rossi felt bad for making the new agent uncomfortable once again. He knew it wasn't exactly his fault, but the girl was having trouble enough already. It just… When she slept, he noticed how small and tired she looked. And the longer he stared, the more childlike she became, and the more he thought it was unfair that she had to see the things she saw yesterday. He knew she was dreaming about it because in her sleep, her eyes would screw in fright or worry. He watched her and remembered the Galin children, and he wished there was an age limit on witnessing horrors.

Morgan turned around and noticed that Adriana was awake.

"Hey, Missy, you wanna play?" he asked hopefully, shaking the deck of cards.

Adriana was going to respond that she was busy looking over the files, but then she observed that everyone turned their attention to her, apparently waiting for her response. Hotch looked especially intently at her.

She felt trapped again. Saying no would seemingly prove to Agent Hotchner that she didn't want to be on the team, but saying yes would make it seem like she was shirking her duties.

Deciding she would rather be thought of as lazy than be fired, Adriana reluctantly put down her files and moved to where Morgan and Reid were sitting.

Morgan smiled as she sat down across from them. "Great, maybe you'll help me finally beat Reid."

Reid rolled his eyes and dealt Adriana in.

"Um, what're we playing?" she asked.

"Poker," Reid answered.

"Oh, I don't know how to play," she said, seeing a fortunate opportunity to escape.

"I'll teach you," Reid offered gallantly.

Adriana slumped down, defeated.

Reid picked up a hand of cards and started explaining, "This version of poker is structured around a rotating "blind" system. Its purpose is to stimulate betting. In the game, card patterns, called hands, are ranked by strength and those can be played after a combination…"

As Reid kept explaining the cards and their functions, Adriana slowly caught on. Hands were straightforward and blinds seemed simple. It was easy enough to understand the game, but she knew it was much harder to develop working strategies.

Ten minutes later, they were playing quietly without any conversation.

Adriana hesitantly put down a hand of cards. "Um, this is a flush, right?"

Morgan and Reid checked the cards and both smiled commendingly at her.

"You got it already," Morgan said proudly. He pushed the small pile of M&M's in her direction.

"I was the one who actually taught her," Reid muttered.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Adriana gave a small, pleased smiled. It felt nice that they decided to include her. Then a second later, she realized she had to check herself. She couldn't let herself be too comfortable.

But Morgan wasn't about to let her fall silent; he had something to ask her. "So… how's Lily doing?" he questioned casually.

"Um, h-how should I know?" Adriana replied apprehensively. She was never a great liar.

He gave her a knowing look. "C'mon, Missy. We all know you went to the hospital the first chance you got."

She should've known better than to try to keep anything from profilers.

It was true. Once everyone returned to the hotel to pack, Adriana slipped away to the hospital only a few blocks away. She located Lily's room, but wasn't allowed in. She was, however, able to badger the doctor about the girl's condition until he relented and told her.

Adriana blushed, discomfited about being caught. "Why didn't anyone mention it?" she asked.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Reid told her. He looked at her with sympathy. "How is she?"

She sighed and looked down at the table. She played absently with her M&M's. "The doctor said she's going to be okay. She needed a mild blood transfusion for the blood loss, but at least her body digested the Rompun quickly enough to avoid her lungs failing."

"Well, that's good news," Morgan said reassuringly.

Adriana bit her lip, trying to keep back what was really hurting her. Morgan and Reid noticed.

"What is it?" Reid asked.

She looked down at her hands. They stopped shaking for now, but she knew once she told them, they would start again.

Softly, in a half-furious, half-miserable voice, she admitted what else happened to Lily. "Moss burned her. With a heated poker. The burn was so bad, it penetrated her rib bone. If it was any larger, she would've needed a skin graft." She looked up at them with a questioning expression. "How is she supposed to forget being tortured? That burn is never going away, and it'll never let her forget."

"She'll be okay," Reid said. Adriana didn't like that he was repeating what the stupid doctor had told her, but he continued, "It's always worse when the victims are children, but they'll move past it."

She crossed her arms and looked away, unsatisfied with his explanation. Victims, especially children, don't just suddenly become fine after it's over. She especially knew that.

Morgan said, "It happens, okay? You can't let yourself get attached, kid. There's going to be a lot of victims that we'll meet, but we can't help everybody."

Adriana didn't say anything else; she just picked up her cards and remained focused on them. Reid and Morgan shared a look, but decided to drop the issue.

Inside, she knew they were right. After traumatic events, children were able to adjust healthily and regain their lives, sometimes even better than adults. She shouldn't be this bothered at all. After all, their previous case in Bemidji featured a lot worse than what they found in Salt Lake City. But it was her first case with someone who had no chance of fighting off their attacker, or no chance of forgetting the torture they endured. It was her first case with a survivor, and it unnerved her deeply.

They kept playing for a while longer, until Reid kept winning hand after hand, and Morgan got annoyed.

"I'm not cheating!" Reid exclaimed after Morgan accused him. "Poker is math, and statistics, and drawing from abstractions-"

"So you're allowed to count cards?" Adriana asked, puzzled.

Morgan shook his head in frustration and threw his cards on the table. He took a seat away from them.

"I guess it's just you and me then," Reid said wryly to Adriana as he reshuffled the deck.

Adriana figured correctly that it wasn't the first time this had happened, but didn't say anything.

"How's your knee?" Reid asked politely. He noticed that she winced the slightest bit when she shifted her legs under the table.

"It's a little bruised, but it'll heal soon." Truthfully, it was banged really badly, but at least she didn't have a limp.

"Maybe you shouldn't have slammed into the door?" he suggested inoffensively.

Adriana had to chuckle a little at that. "Yeah, that was probably not the best idea."

Morgan overheard them from his new seat. "Impulse issues," he intoned loudly.

Adriana reddened and said, "I just didn't think very clearly."

"But that's the definition of 'impulse,'" Reid pointed out.

"Well, you went to an unsub's house without any backup," Adriana observed.

"They were coming!"

Morgan shook his head again. "Seriously, both of you. Impulse issues." He slid on headphones and gave them one last meaningful look.

Adriana stayed in the seat and kept playing poker with Reid. She was getting the hang of it.

* * *

A/N: I actually had to teach myself poker for this chapter! It's not as easy as I make it sound. Oh, the things I do for verisimilitude.

Seriously, what would anyone do without Wikipedia?

Next chapter: Depressing shit. Hahaha just kidding! It's extremely depressing shit.

Nuwanda31- thanks x your awesomeness (a truly googleplexian number)


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I LIVE! To my loyal readers, who continue to read this story even though I fell off the face of the earth for a while- god bless 'ye. I just finished off a batch of ass-kicking exams and term papers, so now I have some more time to write. Hopefully.**

**Now let's get bizzz—aayyyy! **

**(Dear god, did I actually just say that?)**

**Disclaimer: The Mark Gordon Production Company may have seen through my clever disguise, but they cannot ignore the sheer might of the firepower of my XM-25 grenade launcher! I honestly didn't want it to come to violence, but when you withhold a girl's rights to CM… it's war. **

* * *

_"Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too."_

–Lemony Snicket

**...**

Rain softly tapped the windows of Reid's apartment, and streamed down the glass to distort the view outside. The bleak, gray morning offered no calm or solace to the agent inside, who was being roused out of sleep by another nightmare.

It was a week since the team returned from Salt Lake City, and since then, Reid had been having a singular nightmare, one that he knew stemmed from the events there.

He groped around in his dim, cluttered room, and reached for the light switch, though not before painfully banging his foot against his night table. Light and pain simultaneously assaulted his senses.

Reid stifled a yelp of pain and stumbled back onto his bed, cradling his injured foot. His head pounded like there was hammering inside his skull instead of normal blood flow. The nightmare left him feeling frustrated and disorientated.

_He and Messers were back in Moss's basement. He stood frozen to the floor, watching Messers try to tear away Lily's bindings with her bare hands. He ran forward and tried to help her, but no matter how hard he pulled, nothing happened. Messers faced him, her face agonized, begging, "Help me, Reid, help me!"_

_Reid pulled even harder, but now he was pulling at steel weights attached to the floor that he had no chance of loosening. Messers kept demanding, "Why aren't you helping me?"_

_He turned around, and she was gone. The echoes of her pleading voice reverberated off the stone walls, growing fainter and fainter. It sounded like Riley Jenkins…_

He shook his head as if to loosen the dream's hold on his mind. Even after three days, Reid didn't know why he was having a hard time excising the images from his memory. They bothered him more than usual, and he just wanted them gone.

He felt a familiar hollow ache in his veins and the back of his head. It was telling him it would be easy to forget and not care. To feel the comforting, blank numbness of a medicated mind once more.

Reid was experienced enough to know that he couldn't pretend his cravings did not exist anymore. They still came and went at times. It was an inexorable part of him now. Some days, it came strong, like a passing sickness. He could argue it was psychosomatic, but he knew it was really the lingering damage of dilaudid to the nucleus accumbens and frontal cortex in his brain.

He dug through the clutter on his desk and unearthed his two-year medallion. He clutched the little coin tightly, and, once he got dressed, slipped it into his pocket. He held it securely as he stepped into the bleak, rainy morning.

He figured it was one of those days.

**...**

About thirty miles away, Adriana Messers was waking up late. The alarm bells on her new phone pealed in loud and strident chimes. She growled and reminded herself not to destroy the poor phone in another fit of anger. She couldn't afford to buy another new one.

Adriana sat up groggily and noticed that she had a book lying next to her pillow. _Alice in Wonderland._ She sighed in disappointment. To her, it could mean only one thing: she had a nightmare, woke up, grabbed her comfort book, and fell asleep reading. Again.

She couldn't remember what she had dreamt of, but assumed it was her usual nightmare. The nightmares about Lily had disappeared for good when she received a card from the recovering girl. The bright, cheery card that read "Thank you FBI!" was addressed to Adriana, and said that Lily was doing much better. She kept it tucked away in her dresser. Thinking about it made her smile.

So no, the terror that awoke her in the dead of night must have been the usual. It occurred to her how sad and pathetic it was to have a "standard" nightmare. For the thousandth time she wondered when she would finally get over it.

Adriana heaved herself out of bed with difficulty after glancing out her window. The morose spirit of the dreary and wet morning and the lingering, mocking threat of her nightmare made her reluctant to leave for work, to face whatever other horrors humanity inflicted and then bundled up in files for her to analyze.

She figured it was just one of those days.

**...**

Reid welcomed solid ground after being harshly jostled on the subway for almost an hour. He appreciated that it didn't try to trample him.

As bizarrely cold and damp as the morning was, Reid focused hard on it. Feeling rain splatter on his clothes and skin distracted him from the gnawing cravings. He could feel them under his skin, urging him. He pretended that the rain silenced them.

It did not last, though. The FBI building was snug and too silent, he found when he entered. The cases would have to distract him.

But the bullpen was even worse. The florescent lights were glaringly bright, and they seemed to be humming at a louder decibel than usual. Everywhere he looked, the upsetting light shined into his eyes like a laser. Reid collapsed into his chair, feeling a migraine surfacing. The words on the papers in front of him started to blur. He barely registered the elevator _ding_.

Adriana stepped off the elevator, surprised that she made it to work at a decent time. She imagined she stepped into some kind of time rift. She hoped that, along with swift transport, it miraculously removed the dark circles around her eyes. _Wishful thinking, though._

The only one at the desks was Agent Reid. He was digging his knuckles into his eye sockets and wincing at the overhead lights.

Adriana felt a pang of sympathy. He looked even worse than she felt. He probably didn't have coffee yet, she guessed. Then, fortuitously, she remembered something in her lunch that would perk anyone up at least slightly.

"Um, Ag- …Reid?" she said.

Reid looked up blearily and found himself face-to-face with a chocolate chip cookie. Adriana noted that the circles around his eyes were even darker than the ones around hers. He probably really needed sugar.

"Cookie?" Adriana offered.

"Um, sorry?" he said, confused by the baked good in front of his face.

"Well, you look really tired." She started to ramble awkwardly. "So, I mean, the ridiculous amount sugar in this one cookie could sort of remedy that. Not as much as coffee, but since caffeine gets digested much more quickly than sucrose sugar, it's worth trying the cookie so you won't fall asleep at your desk. Well, unless, you want to sleep at your desk, but I don't know how much Agent Hotchner'll like that…So, um…" At his lack of response, she felt idiotic and stopped talking.

Reid felt bemused. She assumed he was having a sugar crash or something benign like that. She had no idea.

"Thank you," he said, smiling privately. He accepted the outstretched cookie and ate it slowly, trying to concentrate as much as possible on chewing. It was an act that required no thought, just attention. The sweet and crunchy cookie was perfect for that.

"You're welcome," Adriana softly responded. She sat down at her desk and quickly pulled out a case file to consider. Anything to drive the nightmare from her brain. Even…yay, a murdered woman.

She looked over at Reid again. He was looking down at his desk again and rubbing his forehead.

For some reason, probably to stop him from rubbing his face off, she blurted out, "Thank you for teaching me poker. I really like it." She was chagrined that she was a week late in thanking him.

Reid looked up with the same slow, baffled expression. Her words penetrated the hazy field of pain around his mind.

"No problem." This time he had a genuine smile, but it was punctured by his wincing. He was a little surprised that she actually began a conversation; it was the most she'd spoken to him all week. It felt good to hear her real voice thanking him, instead of hearing it beg for help he couldn't provide.

Adriana let her attention get reclaimed by a case file, and so did Reid. Both agents bent back down to their work, both trying to keep their demons at bay.

**...**

"_Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, "I'm not going to make it," but you laugh inside- remembering all the times you've felt that way."_

-Charles Bukowski

* * *

A/N: Good god, "time rift?" Adriana's such a neeeeerrrrrrrddddd! Partially my fault, but meh.

So does Cookie = Love? Perhaps….

Now, some of you make think "What the hell was the point of this chapter? Why was it so short? What exactly was this meant to accomplish?" You know what I say to that? "Shut up, Smarty McSass-Pants, I have no time for your infernal new –fangled logic!" That is literally what I will say to you if you question my omniscient wisdom.

Song Listened: Her Morning Elegance- Oren Lavie (So beautiful. It literally inspired this entire chapter. Listen to this now. Seriously, go now.)

Nuwanda31- thanks x you being the sweetest person in the universe. If I could, I would vote you to be president of everything. Including CBS. (Actually, *especially* CBS. I know you'll bring back Paget)


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I've decided to reward you guys for being so super awesome, and I wrapped up this chapter for you as quickly as possible. And by quick, I mean relative to my previous updates. I'm just generous like that. **

**So this takes place over some time. Like a month or so. My story's going to continue having a pretty loose chronology.**

**Disclaimer: *Deep inhalation* Ah, I love the smell of roasted TV executives in the morning. *spreads Napalm all over the studio***

* * *

Adriana wasn't sure when it happened, or even how. It was all very vague to her. She tried to be so careful in keeping to herself. She thought she could control herself. When did she go wrong?

Maybe it was when the humidity of the Virginia spring blustered her hair into a frizzy mess that was equivocal to some birds' nests. She tried to wrestle it into a ponytail, but it just wouldn't budge.

That morning when she arrived at Quantico, wanting to disappear along with her stupid hair, Garcia passed by and took notice of her sorry state. She tsked sympathetically and, before Adriana could even protest, she whisked her away into the bathroom.

"Garcia, you really don't have to-"

"Hush, you," she commanded while rubbing a defrizzifying solution onto Adriana's head. It smelled like too sweet, like candy, but it felt very nice. "Do you _want_ to look like your hair was the site of a bombing? Now stop squirming."

Adriana smiled and felt a rush of gratitude for the strange woman attempting to tame her unruly hair. She knew she should have stopped her friendly advances, but she just could not bring herself to do it.

Ten minutes later, they emerged from the bathroom, and Adriana's hair was gleaming with a sleekness found in magazines. Her normally nondescript, average hair shined in hues of golden brown and mahogany. Garcia surveyed her satisfiedly.

"Thank you," Adriana managed to breathe out. She touched the impossibly soft strands in wonder.

"Well, thank you for letting me," Garcia said, glad to have finally made progress with the normally silent girl. "You should let me do it more often."

Adriana got the feeling she wasn't just talking about her hair.

"Um…yeah, that'd be okay," she said hesitantly.

The bright grin on Garcia's face told her she said the right thing for once.

**…**

Maybe it was when she finally succumbed to her weakness and brought her file back to work. She couldn't help it; she felt nervous whenever the file wasn't in her possession. So, against her better judgment that told her it would only make her feel worse, the file went back into her go-bag

One day, after going halfway through her stack of case files, Adriana's hand strayed down and pulled out the file. Her brain apparently took a nap and lost control of her motor functions because she kept ordering herself to immediately stop, but didn't. The file opened and immersed her once again, even though she could recite its contents by heart.

Rossi passed by and was arrested by the way Adriana was intensely poring over the file. He recognized that look all too well.

"Cold case?" he inquired.

She jumped up, startled. She hastily slid the papers back in and slammed the file shut.

"No, it's not," she lied terribly.

Rossi gave her a knowing look. "C'mon kid, I've been here for a long time. You think I wouldn't see it?"

Adriana flushed guiltily. "What gave it away?"

His eyes darted to the file. "You were looking at that case like your life depended on it. Lots of agents look that way at least once."

"Even you, sir?" she asked.

"Yeah, me too. I had a couple cases like that." He stared off into space for a moment, remembering. "Well, if you need any help…"

"No," she said softly, afraid of offending him. "Thank you, but I need to do this myself."

Rossi smiled understandingly and started to walk away.

Before he left the room, Adriana stood up, unable to keep herself from asking.

"Agent Rossi?" she called.

He turned around.

There was trepidation in her voice. "The cold cases you worked…they didn't end up being…I mean, you solved them, right?"

The searing hope on her face hurt to look. He wanted to assuage her fears the way parents told their children monsters didn't exist. He wanted to tell her that he caught all the bad guys, and they all got punished. But he couldn't give her false hope.

"Only a few," he answered slowly. "As more time passed, they got harder and leads got colder. It's usually rare that there's ever a break."

Adriana concealed the blow well, only nodding silently and carefully sitting back down. She took a small breath.

Rossi walked away. He turned back once to see that she reopened the file and was reading again.

_'Atta girl_.

**…**

It could have been when Adriana entered Hotch's office to drop off some papers. She handed them to him, and he thanked her and focused again on his work, efficient as ever. Adriana made to leave but she lingered in the room when she spotted on his desk the same picture of the boy she had seen during their interview.

She should have probably left and got back to work. No sense in staying in a room with someone as intimidating as Agent Hotchner.

"Sir, who's that?"

Damn her curiosity!

Hotch looked up, surprised to see she was still there. He followed where she was pointing and smiled fondly at the photo. It was taken after Jack's team won a soccer match. Hotch could remember how proud Jack was that he helped score a goal. They went out for ice cream afterwards.

"That's my son, Jack," he said.

Adriana felt herself soften a little at hearing the love in Hotch's voice for his son. Staring at the photo, he looked less intimidating. Almost…approachable.

"How old is he?" she asked.

"Six-and-a-half. He'll be starting first grade soon."

"He likes soccer?"

"He loves it. He plays on his Little League."

Adriana studied the sandy-haired child in the photo. "He doesn't really look like you," she said without thinking. Typical.

Hotch's gaze at the photo hardened the slightest bit. It was almost undetectable, but Adriana was trained in analyzing behavior. She noticed that he looked like he was trying to swallow something back.

"No, he doesn't," he agreed quietly.

Adriana wondered what that tone of voice meant, but tactfully decided not to ask. She took up enough of his time already. Whatever she said to bother him was not her business to pry into.

"Thank you for telling me about him, Hotch," she said. She backed out of the room quickly, before she said anything else wrong.

Hotch nodded, and went back to work. Then, realizing something, he looked up and smiled a little at the spot where Adriana had stood.

It was the first time she called him "Hotch" on her own.

**…**

Maybe it was when she walked through the bullpen doors one ordinary morning and almost got hit in the head with small projectile.

With a skill that surprised herself, Adriana deftly caught the object in mid-air before it could collide with her forehead. It was a small film canister. _What the heck?_

"Sorry!" Reid sprang up from his desk and makeshift lab station. Prentiss trailed behind him, stifling giggles. "Did it hit you?"

"No, I'm fine," she replied. She turned over the small object in her hand. She opened it and smiled at the contents. "Alka-Seltzer tablets and water?"

"Yeah," Reid said. "how did you know?"

"I used to set these off all the time when I was a kid," she said, remembering the fun she had. "I added food coloring, and my mom would get so-"She stopped, realizing she was talking about her past. She needed to stop now.

She gave the canister back to Reid and urged a nonchalant look to her face. "How do get yours to go so far?" she asked.

"It's a secret," Reid smiled.

"It's Reid's physics magic," Prentiss added.

"It's not magic," Adriana argued, "just simple chemistry. There's no such thing as magic."

Reid and Prentiss gaped at her, then exchanged sly looks.

"You're positive there's no such thing as magic?" Reid coaxed.

"It's all just sleight of hand and illusions," Adriana shrugged.

"Then here," Reid reached into his pocket and withdrew something, "Watch this."

He unfurled a dollar bill with a slight flourish.

"A dollar?" Adriana cocked an eyebrow at it. "How is that magical?"

"Observe," he instructed with a finger. Reid took a pen and carefully poked a hole right through George Washington's eye. Then, with a look of practiced concentration, he slowly pulled the pen through the bill.

Adriana felt her eyes widen in astonishment. The bill wasn't ripping. The pen was gliding through it like water.

"How are you…"

Reid slid the pen out of the dollar and answered grinningly, "Magic."

Adriana forced the amazed look out of her eyes, and made her face go blank. In an unimpressed tone, she said, "It's just an eye trick. Anyone can do it."

"You try it, then," Prentiss said. She pushed the pen and the undamaged dollar into Adriana's hands.

Too stubborn to back down, Adriana took them. She examined each carefully. The president's eye was resealed, looking like new. _This should be fairly simple_, she thought. _I mean, it's not like it's rocket-_

She ripped the first dollar immediately.

For the next several hours, Adriana spent her time not working and mutilating innocent dollar bills with the unforgiving pen. Again and again, the dollar tore apart instead of parting compliantly. By the time she wasted ten dollars trying to crack the trick, it was driving her crazy.

Reid came to her dollar-littered desk. "Need help?" he asked innocently. His eyes had an amused light in them.

"This is impossible!" she fumed at him. She waved the objects in front of his smug face.

Reid calmly plucked them out of her furious grasp and performed the trick again more slowly. Once again, the pen smoothly cut through the dollar bill and left it intact. Then, without a word, he handed them back to her.

Adriana gave the dollar a blank look, and then glared at Reid. "Smartass," she muttered and swung back to her desk.

Morgan somehow heard her at his desk and chortled. "Hey, Reid," he said. "This one catches on quick!"

Reid walked away, feeling the tiniest bit hurt.

**….**

Maybe it was after she started napping on the jet each time they closed a case. The others said nothing to her about it, so she assumed it was allowed. She started to hate planes less, and the jet started to feel like the only place she could get a few minutes of uneventful sleep before the nightmares could creep back into the canvas of her subconscious.

Maybe it was when she stopped wincing every time Morgan called her "Missy."

Maybe it was when she conversed with Prentiss for more than five seconds.

Maybe it was after her fifth case with the team. Or the sixth.

It wasn't clear when it started to happen.

What was clear, though, was that Adriana was letting her guard down with the BAU. She was letting them get close.

And that scared her immensely.

* * *

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A/N: What is this strange development? Is Adriana perhaps… *gasp* making friends?

Review if you love science magic!

Hehehe I love smug Reid. Couldn't resist. And if you're upset that Morgan and Prentiss weren't in here enough, they'll be in the next chapter plenty.

NOTICE- I won't be able to post anything for a couple more weeks because of finals and stuff, but I expect the summer months will get this story really rolling.

NEWS- after hearing our cries, pleas, and laments, JJ and Emily ARE COMING BACK! AND SEAVER IS LEAVING! I was so happy to hear both pieces of news. But I'm not sure how they're going to get Emily back. Maybe fake her death again?

Nuwanda31- thanks x the power of the heat from which I'm dying a slow agonizing death


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: N-N-Ninety reviews? Oh my god, I love you guys so much! Thank you to all my loyal reviewers who never fail to make me smile!**

**Note- this chapter will work best if you first listen to Florence & The Machine's song "Hurricane Drunk." That song pretty much defines this chapter. Also, the chapter is muy muy angsty.**

**Anyways, it's time for a…. FLASHBACK! *Cues Doctor Who music* Wee ooo wee ooo wee ooo wee ooo**

**Disclaimer: *wakes up from beautiful dream of burning Mark Gordon alive* Wait, what? It wasn't real? NOOOOOO!**

* * *

_Adriana crashed out of the FBI building, swinging both doors open with a force that nearly catapulted herself onto the sidewalk. With her arms flailing for balance, she stumbled forward, but righted herself just in time to prevent herself from hitting the hard pavement. She gulped back the tears that were threatening to burst out of her throat. _

_Straightening up, she felt the cool splash of a raindrop on her cheek. A light shower started to fall around her as she stood rooted to the spot. People oblivious to the frozen girl hurried past her in a blur. All over, umbrellas were being opened by people seeking shelter from the rain, but Adriana couldn't make herself move. She allowed herself to be caught in the approaching storm. _

_Her thoughts, burning with fear and shame and tears just moments ago, started go numb. Everything was fading in the silence of the rain, and for one moment, she felt nothing. Caught in the haze, the fear and shame slipped away. It was wonderfully quiet. She wanted to preserve that moment for eternity so she wouldn't have to feel weak, worthless, or scared ever again._

_And then that moment ended as an oncoming car splashed through a puddle and completely soaked her. _

_"Ugh!" she jumped. Cold, filthy street water drenched her lower half and snapped her out of her trance. The sudden shock of waking up from the pleasant state of unfeeling was like getting hit in the head with an anvil. _

_She wanted to not feel sick and weak anymore. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to feel safe again. _

_But most of all, she wanted a drink._

_It was strange. Adriana had never been a partier, or even a casual drinker, so the sudden appearance of the unmistakable pleading for alcoholic numbness should have come as a shock to her. But in her current state, she merely regarded its presence as something slightly curious, barely worth her attention. She turned most of her attention to finding someplace to get good and hammered. _

_Without a care to where she was headed, Adriana walked for blocks in the misty rain. After walking for what felt like hours, she found a place dingy and dank enough to match her spirits._

_It was as dark inside as it was out in the rainy night. The bar was grimy, but Adriana only saw the long, tall bottles sitting on the shelves. Immediately, she slapped down some money and ordered something strong. She finished it and ordered another. And another._

_"What's your deal, honey?" the bartender asked conversationally, eyeing the pretty and increasingly intoxicated girl. Adriana didn't answer. He stared lecherously at her and slipped her extra drinks in between the ones she ordered._

_After her eighth or ninth, all the memories and emotions were dulling again. If they tried to peep out from under her drunken haze, Adriana would quiet them with another drink. Her head was swimming and she felt completely disoriented, but it was better than enduring the assaulting reminiscences anymore._

_Outside of her haze, she could hear words. The bartender was saying something._

_"So how about it, baby? My place is right upstairs."_

_Adriana squinted at him. She recognized that tone of voice and shuddered inwardly. She was about to tell him to back off when a strange notion came to her. Maybe she _should. _Maybe this would prove to herself what she'd tried to deny. Maybe she was that type of girl._

_The strange, masochistic voice told her to pull down her shirt a little, smile widely, and follow the man upstairs. In an even darker room, the stranger fumbled with her shirt and his hands, and Adriana willed herself not to freak out. It worked until he reached to undo her pants. She felt the groping hand and pulled away violently, already sobbing. The memories were too much. Bewildered, and a little frightened, the man watched her run out, hastily pulling on her shirt before sprinting away into the pouring rain._

_Adriana ran aimlessly, trying to outrun the memories gaining on her. But she was getting tired. Her aching legs finally stopped at a bench, and she sat until the recollections were able to creep back into her head and remind her what she tried to forget:_

_She was weak and worthless, and no amount of alcohol could change that. She wasn't strong enough to stay in Missing Persons anymore. She had to leave._

**…**

"Come on, Missy, it's just around the corner," Morgan said enticingly.

She was standing by her desk, trying to leave work peacefully, but the other agents seemed intent on taking her out with them for a late drink. Adriana, however, was having none of it.

She shook her head for the hundredth time. "I really don't want to go to a bar, okay? It's too late at night." The excuse sounded lame even to her. She had other reasons for not wanting to go to any bar ever again, but she wasn't going to admit them.

Prentiss rolled her head in exasperation. "Come on, it'll be fun," she insisted. "You need to get out some."

"Look," Morgan said. He grabbed Reid who was passing by and held him by the shoulders, displaying him like evidence. "Even Reid here is going. You should too." Reid shook off Morgan's hands, but stayed to watch them attempt to get Messers to accompany them.

"Is that supposed to persuade me or something?" Adriana snorted. "I'm not going. Ask Garcia or something."

"Yeah, I almost forgot," Morgan said. He called across the bull-pen to the passing Garcia, "Hey, babygirl!" The tech was tapping away at her tablet computer when she heard Morgan's loud address.

Garcia turned and happily strolled over to the group. "What's up, mi amigas?"

"Mis amigos," Adriana and Prentiss simultaneously corrected her. Garcia waved her hand dismissively.

"Wanna come out with us?" Morgan asked eagerly. "We're going to our usual place."

She made a sad face. "Oh, how I ardently wish I could, handsome, but tonight's my volunteer night. I always go."

"Well then, can you at least make Missy come with us?" he said, undeterred.

Garcia spun around to face Adriana. "You're not going? Why ever not?" She looked shocked that someone dare refuse the opportunity to go out with her Morgan.

"I don't want to," she explained again tiredly, like a child trying to whine their way out of doing chores.

"Oh trust me, darling, you'll want to. You spend far too much time cooped at this small desk, doing paperwork. You need to have some fun."

"It's not really my idea of fun," Adriana grumbled.

Garcia put her hands on her hips. "You're going," she stated resolutely.

"You can't make me," Adriana argued, mirroring Garcia's stance. She probably forgot who she was talking to.

"Oh can't I?" Garcia waggled her eyebrows. She lunged playfully at Adriana, who darted out of the way and let out an involuntary giggle.

"Oh, I'll get you my pretty!" avowed Garcia as she marched over to the reluctant and misbehaving agent. But Adriana just scampered away further, a smile tugging on her lips. The others followed behind, watching the spectacle. Garcia advanced and Adriana edged towards the door, both of them starting to giggle madly. The two were playing a game of "you-can't-catch-me," and neither would let up.

"Morgan! Grab her before she gets away!" Garcia ordered.

Morgan sprang into action and grabbed Adriana from behind. His strong arms wrapped across her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. For a moment, Adriana shrieked and laughed along with the others when she was finally caught. And then the compressing feeling from Morgan's grip unleashed a crashing wave of memories.

She remembered strong arms holding her down, and weight above suffocating her. Her flight or fight instincts told her to break free, but her panicky limbs froze and refused to thrash out of their holdings. The tightness around her chest crushed her lungs. She tried to inhale, but her throat felt like it was closing, making her feel the dangerous lack of oxygen. Lightheaded, she felt the floor starting to roll beneath her feet, and she heard the rushing, buzzing noise she knew with far too much familiarity. Her vision started to go fuzzy and dark at the corners.

Her limbs finally responded to her brain's request to _run run run_. She started to struggle desperately against the confines, but Morgan, not seeing the terrified and panicked look on her face, just tightened his hold on her. He thought she was playing around. If he had just twisted around, he would have seen that Adriana was gasping for air.

"Morgan, stop!" Reid cried. He dropped his bag and ran frantically to wrench Morgan away from her. He pried her out of the strong grasp, and she fell sprawling to the floor, shaking and wheezing.

"Hey! Reid, what was that about?" Morgan chastised. He bent down to help Adriana up. He didn't know why Reid was so upset.

"Stop!" Reid grabbed Morgan's arm. "Don't touch her!"

Adriana's head lay on the carpeted floor and she heaved deep breaths, willing the fear and memories to depart. Tremors ran up and down her legs.

"She's having a panic attack," Reid whispered.

A moment passed. Then, the agents watched in silence as Adriana pulled her shaking body upright and sat up slowly. She rubbed her eyes, ordering the dark spots in her eyesight to go away. Her vision cleared, and the deafening rush in her ears subsided. She looked up and saw all of them staring at her. _Oh this is just freaking great…_

"Shit, Missy," Morgan bent down and took hold of her elbow to heave her to her feet. "I'm really sorry. Are you ok?"

All of them peered at her in concern and apprehension, like she was a bomb about to explode. Adriana hated when people scrutinized her like that.

"I'm fine," she insisted, pushing away hands that tried to help her steady. Her heart was still beating unsteadily fast. She stood up calmly, but her hands and legs were still shaking noticeably. She casually dusted herself off. "Let's go to the bar."

The others exchanged worried looks.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Prentiss asked concernedly. "Maybe you should lie down a little…"

"I'm going," she said in a stubborn voice that capitulated to no one. She pushed passed them and headed towards the door.

The others exchanged glances, unsure to let her join them after her episode.

Reid was the first to move. "We can't let her go outside by herself," he said. He grabbed her things that she left behind, and followed her out the door.

Morgan and Prentiss realized he was right and followed him, hoping for normal, panic-free drink.

"Watch out for her, okay?" Garcia called after them.

**...**

The club's atmosphere was pleasantly smoky and dim, with a short, crowded bar and people dancing in the center floor. Loud hip-hop music played over all the patrons, which Adriana tried to ignore. Apparently the BAU had come here once or twice before, so she wasn't going to complain about it. No one mentioned her panic attack or looked at her in worry, and she didn't want to compromise that. She appreciated it a lot. The teammates sat around a table in a booth in the corner of the bar. Morgan and Prentiss were laughingly recounting "The Reid Effect," while Reid glared at the pair of them and Adriana sniggered gleefully.

"And then," Prentiss gasped in breathless laughter, clutching her chest, "after it started barking, the dog tried to bite his ankle! He kept running around the yard, and I swear, it just wouldn't let up! He had to jump the fence so it wouldn't gnaw off his leg!"

Adriana fell back snorting, trying not to choke on her drink. She coughed out, "Oh my god, are you joking?"

"Guys, it's not that funny," grumbled Reid.

"I think it is," Adriana shot back, grinning. "Animals can sense things humans can't. Maybe they can immediately tell when someone's a smartass!"

The three of them fell back chortling while Reid rolled his eyes.

Seeing his hurt expression, Adriana pat his arm empathetically. "Don't worry, I'm sure there's someplace that truly values your intellectual contribution," she said wryly.

"Yeah, I wonder where I could find a place like that," he muttered sarcastically into his drink.

"Oh don't feel too bad for him, Missy," Morgan smiled. "He's got plenty of fans to appreciate him."

Adriana's face lit up with a mischievous grin, and she turned to Reid. "You have fans? What're they like?"

"Insane," he said.

"Really? They can't be that bad."

"Of the ones I actually met, two were serial killers!" he exclaimed.

"Oh," she paused. "…Well that sucks. Are there any normal ones?"

"Nope," Morgan answered immediately. "Reid just attracts psychopaths." He reached over and grabbed Reid by the head, and knuckled him playfully.

While Reid sputtered that he did nothing of the sort, Adriana asked Prentiss jokingly, "So his fans are mostly girls?"

Prentiss laughed and said, "Nah… _somehow_ Reid just doesn't get many female admirers."

"No, I bet some have to be girls," Adriana said. "They're probably fan-girls or something." Grinning broadly, Adriana put on a high-pitched saccharine voice and squealed, "Isn't Dr. Reid, like, sooooo dreamy? Oh, Dr. Reid, sign my thesis paper! Have my first-born child, Dr. Reid!" She pretended to swoon, and this time even Reid laughed.

"That doesn't usually happen when I give lectures," he chuckled, ducking his head.

"Not during _lectures_, Pretty Boy," Morgan teased. Reid blushed, making the rest of them laugh even harder.

Through her laughter, Adriana looked wonderingly around the table. Reid was trying to hide his reddening face. Morgan and Prentiss kept joking around. Her smile grew wider as she took in the funny, caring people that were steadily becoming her friends. The center of her chest grew warm, and she knew it had nothing to do with the tiny amount of alcohol she had consumed. For the first time in a long while, she was almost happy.

"Hey, what's with you, Missy?" Morgan glanced over at her. "You're being awfully quiet."

"Nothing," she answered. "Just…fine."

Later, the feeling remained when she, Morgan, and Reid childishly teased Prentiss after a man from across the bar sent her a drink. It stayed in her as they left the bar, warming her from the inside out. It remained in her the entire way home.

She didn't have a single nightmare that night.

**…**

_If you know someone who tries to drown their sorrows, you might tell them sorrows know how to swim. _

- H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

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A/N: Lol what do you guys think of Adriana acting slutty? It's so out of character for her, I was laughing a little while I was writing it. Are you all suitably confused now?

Shameless self-promotion: I made a tumblr, and you guys can use it to ask me questions if you want. If you're ever confused about my story, give me a little shout at www. flushed - delight . tumblr . com (you have to click on the gear-looking thing and then click the question mark)

Song listened: see above

Nuwanda31- thanks x the awesomeness of the Doctor Who finale


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I've wanted to write this chapter for so long, you have no idea. It's basically my take on the classic "Reid-spills-some-sort-of-liquid-on-pretty-girl-awkwardness-ensues" troupe. Enjoy the lightheartedness!**

**Disclaimer: Apparently straight-up brutality doesn't work. So instead, I'm going to delve into Mark Gordon's dreams while he's sleeping a lá "Inception" and **_**suggest**_** to him that I should get the CM rights. And I'm totally going to do the non-required gravity-defying stunts.**

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Prentiss just couldn't take it anymore.

The irritated woman slammed a heavy stack of files on her desk in utter frustration, and stalked off to the break corner to get coffee. It was the best she could for the moment. For some reason, the FBI frowned upon agents drinking at work. Clearly not everyone had the pleasure of working with her teammates.

The hard counter of the break room's table provided her with something to grip fiercely and channel at least some of her annoyance out. She flipped on the coffee machine. It whirred quietly, and she mentally urged it to process faster. If she didn't have something to drink in the next five minutes, she would hurl the coffee pot into the wall.

"Hey, Princess," she heard. She turned and huffed in continued annoyance as Morgan approached her.

"Where were you?" she demanded.

"Hanging with Garcia," he replied easily. "Why? I miss something big?"

She sighed, knowing her anger was misdirected. "No… but if you were here, you could've stopped it."

Morgan didn't get it at first, but understood when Prentiss jerked her head back towards their cluster of desks. "Ooohh… So it's them again?"

"Yes!" Prentiss exclaimed, finally having someone to vent to after an entire morning of listening to nothing but _them_. "They've been going at it forever, Morgan! I can't get anything done around here."

He shook his head sympathetically. "Man, I'm sorry, but what're we gonna do? Lock 'em in a closet?"

"I wish," she muttered darkly.

He grinned. "Yeah, that'd only make it worse. They'd rip each other apart, you know that."

"Yeah, I guess."

They fell quiet for a moment. In that space of silence, the voices of the two people they were discussing floated over the desks to the corner where Morgan and Prentiss lounged.

"I don't understand why you're not even considering the theory," the girl's voice rang out, sounding frustrated.

"Because the so-called 'theory' is based upon shoddy experiments that failed to definitively prove anything," the boy answered firmly.

Even though Prentiss was staring at the coffee machine, (which was evidently not picking up any of her psychic urgings to boil faster) she could clearly picture Messers wearing an expression of exasperation and stubborn defiance. She could tell from the other voice that her opponent- Reid- was trying to sound outwardly calm and assured, but his patience was probably starting to crack too.

"That doesn't mean that GFAJ-1 is a fluke!" Messers disputed. "The data-"

"Oh, you mean the data comprised of the intact DNA?" Reid sniped. "That data?"

"Yes, that data! The theory still has merit, even though the experiments have been a little botched."

Prentiss heard Reid's voice jump several octaves, as though Messers's weird theory thing was physically ringing this throat. "'A little botched'? They failed to prove anything at all!"

Prentiss turned to Morgan, who was listening to the conversation with great amusement. "Do you know what the hell they're talking about?"

"Beats me," he shrugged. "When I was over there twenty minutes ago, they were talking about dinosaurs."

The coffee pot finally heated up, and Prentiss poured herself a very well-deserved cup. Meanwhile, the intellectual discussion over in the bullpen was quickly devolving into a shouting match.

"It's not impossible to believe if you just considered the arsenic's chemical properties!" Adriana yelled.

"I have a PhD in Chemistry, Adriana! I know what the properties of arsenic are. Probably better than you do!" The more annoyed he got, the higher Reid's voice grew in pitch.

"God, it's like a match made in nerd heaven," Prentiss muttered in slight disgust as she held the steaming beverage to her lips.

Morgan looked at her abruptly. "Wait, really? You think Reid and Missy- You think they'd…"

She gaped. That wasn't really what she meant. "Well I was just joking, but I mean, maybe, I guess..."

Before she could finish, though, they heard Messers yell in frustration, "Just because you're still stuck in the nineteenth century, when it took a hundred years to actually get anything done, doesn't mean we all are!"

It was their turn to watch in amusement as she heard Messers stomp away and come to the break counter in a huff. _Nope,_ Prentiss thought. _Those two would be impossible together. _

"Can you believe him?" Adriana seethed as she grabbed her mug from the cabinet, making sure to give the cabinet's doors a good, loud _bang._ "He actually thinks that a scientific marvel is nothing more than a fluke!"

"Yeah, what a jerk," Prentiss snorted. "It's almost as annoying as having to listen to two geniuses yell for hours about stuff no one cares about."

Adriana was embarrassed about her outburst, but not repentant. "It wasn't hours," she said petulantly. "Anyways, it was all his fault. He's the one who had to press the issue."

Morgan chuckled. "Soon, you'll learn to deal with him. We all did."

Adriana grumbled inaudibly and poured herself some coffee to calm her nerves. She knew she shouldn't have let Reid make her mad like that, but she couldn't help it. He was just so annoyingly smug. She felt like she had to wipe that know-it-all look off his face.

Caught up in her ire, Adriana didn't notice that Reid came up behind her, mouth open to apologize. She turned around, and, startled at how close he was, jumped high. Her hot mug of coffee clumsily tipped over and spilled onto her shirt.

The scorching drink spilled all the way down her front and burned her chest. It seeped through her tan t-shirt and stained it a dull brown.

"Ooooww!" Adriana whined. She grit her teeth hard.

Reid jumped away and his eyes widened guiltily. He immediately started passing her napkins and offered apologies in between. Morgan and Prentiss were trying greatly not to burst out in laughter.

"I'm so sorry, Adriana," Reid said. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" she fumed.

Reid took in her dripping front and reddening neck. "I'm really sorry," he offered again.

"It's okay," she said testily, not wanting to hear any more apologies. "I have a spare shirt in my go-bag."

She went back to her desk, shirt soaked and sticky, somewhat calmed by the fact that she had something to change into. But when she pulled out her bag and rifled through it, she couldn't find another shirt. She frantically dumped the contents of her bag on the floor, and searched for a shirt. All she could find was her silly pajama shirt.

"Oh crap," she panicked. Was this really all she had?

She gave the bag another search and came up empty. She had no other choice.

**…**

Adriana came out of the bathroom staring intensely at the floor. Her face was flushed. Hopefully, no one would meet her eye and ask her what the hell she was wearing.

_Stupid Reid_, she fumed.

Luckily, nobody saw her yet. She scurried over to the bull pen. She was planning on burying her head in her arms at her desk for the rest of the day, but Garcia was there, handing out files. "New case, Missy!" she said. "Eveyone's in the conference room and wha…" She caught sight of Adriana's shirt. She trailed off and burst into giggles. "I like your shirt, sweetie. It's very cute."

"It looks like something a five-year-old would wear, admit it," Adriana said sullenly.

"Noooo, it's more like something…" She looked at it questioningly. "Well, I wouldn't peg you for wearing it." Garcia was pretty sure that Adriana always wore bland, solid colored shirts. She giggled again and said, "Well, Hotch'll have something to say about it."

The red-faced girl morosely followed Garcia up to the conference room and walked in. Hotch glanced at them enter, looked down, and then swiftly looked up again.

"Messers," Hotch said as he tiredly rubbed his forehead, "What is that on your shirt?"

"It's _Suricata suricatta_, sir." Adriana gave him what she hoped was a winning smile. "The African meerkat."

And indeed, her shirt had a meerkat on it. Specifically, a meerkat that was wearing a jaunty scarf and flying a plane. It was completely ridiculous, and she loved it.

Hotch sighed, "Don't you have anything else to wear?"

Adriana blushed even deeper, making her cheeks bright red. "I… sort of got my last shirt…kind of…dirty."

Reid mouthed "Sorry" across the room, but Adriana continued to glare at him.

"Well, change your shirt before we leave," Hotch ordered. "I'm not letting you on the jet with that on."

"But Hotch, it's the only shirt I have with me!"

"Then buy a new one now so you can come with us."

Adriana fell into a sulky silence as everyone was briefed on a case in Seattle. She didn't have any inclination to go shopping, so she was either going to find a laundromat or not go on the case at all. Her thoughts cycled between _This is so dumb _and _I hate Reid_ and _Why didn't I think to pack another shirt with me?_

After being fully briefed on the case, everyone left the conference room. Adriana decided to either beg Prentiss for a shirt to wear, or pour hydrochloric acid on the coffee-infused one. It would get the stain out, at least.

"Hey, Adriana?"

She turned and saw Reid standing behind her. He was biting his lip worriedly and meekly holding out his cardigan to her.

"What's this for?" she asked, confused.

"I'm really sorry about ruining your shirt… and maybe you could wear this to cover the meerkat," he said. He held out the cardigan a little further.

She rolled her eyes. "Reid, I'm not mad at you anymore, so you can stop apologizing." She was just tired and annoyed, not furious.

"But you don't have time to find a new shirt, and it's currently 56 degrees in Seattle, and can drop to 45 at night. You'll be cold there without a jacket." He looked oddly concerned for the state of her body temperature.

Between her not wanting to find another shirt and the cardigan looking so soft and cozy, Adriana hesitated, then gingerly took it from him with a quiet and grateful, "Thanks."

She slipped it on and buttoned it up. It hung on her awkwardly, drooping halfway down her thighs. The sleeves fell five inches past her hands. It was soft, though, and so warming. She didn't know what was actually warming her, though- the cardigan or Reid's kind gesture.

"It's perfect," she said softly. "Thank you."

Reid smiled genially, glad she accepted it without fuss. "You should keep it on while we're there."

"You won't be cold?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. It was sort of a lie. Reid actually hated being cold, but the thought of the thin girl shivering in her t-shirt convinced him that his sweater was being put to good use.

Outside by the desks, Morgan and Prentiss saw the two of them leave the conference room, talking comfortably. They took in the huge cardigan hanging on Adriana and their relaxed stances, and they exchanged significant glances.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Morgan asked her conspiratorially.

"Oh yeah," she smirked.

* * *

.

A/N: Oh noooo, what are Morgan and Prentiss thinking? Something devious, no doubt.

Eeep sooo much coffee drinking going on in this chapter. It's turning me into an addict like them.

FYI: Reid and Adriana were arguing about a recent experiment to test the viability of arsenic-based life forms, named GFAJ-1 bacterium. In it, the arsenic compounds supposedly present in GFAJ-1's genes should've broken into fragments because of some added acid. But the DNA stayed intact- meaning that it was made of durable phosphate. There were reports that the GFAJ-1 was actually misrepresented and the whole thing was overblown. It's apparently very controversial and scientists are having hissy fits left and right.

FYI 2: I have a tank top similar to Adriana's shirt. It's so freaking awesome, I can't even begin to tell you how much I love it.

Nuwanda31- Thanks x how much I want Reid's cardigan


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: HOLY. SHIT. I. HAVE. OVER. 100. REVIEWS.**

**I-I…you guys… this is so… *starts bawling* Thank youuuuuu!**

**Anyway, this is another mostly lighthearted chapter. Enjoy them for now, because I'm planning something evil soon.**

**Disclaimer: Oh god! Oh my god! Mark Gordon's dreams are a terrifying place… But I'll persevere! I'll get those CM rights if it's the last thing I- OH MY GOD! WHAT UNHOLY TERROR IS THIS**

* * *

"_You must not fight too often with one enemy, or you will teach him all your art of war."_

–Napoleon Bonaparte

**…**

Reid walked into the BAU one morning to find Adriana furiously working at something under Morgan's desk chair. She lay on her back like a mechanic under a car, and Reid thought he heard odd little metallic noises coming from under there. While it wasn't unusual for the BAU to find Adriana doing something strange, it was far too early in the morning for her antics. Usually she needed about two cups of strong coffee before she pulled off any stunts, so Reid knew that something must have happened.

He strode over. "What're you doing to Morgan's chair?" he asked apprehensively.

"And good morning to you too, Dr. Reid," her greeting muffled from under the seat.

"Hi. What are you doing?" he asked again.

"Vengeance," she replied grimly.

Reid had a bad feeling about this, but he pressed on. "Vengeance for what?"

Adriana got up from under the chair and wiped her hands in satisfaction. Reid noticed that she was holding a screwdriver, tilted dangerously at his torso.

"Morgan ate my last Pop Tart. Therefore, he must die," she said in a scarily calm and measured voice.

Terrified, Reid checked under the seat for some kind of hidden explosive. When he saw none, he straightened up. "Die how?"

"Of embarrassment," Adriana clarified as she put away the screwdriver. "I loosened all the screws in his chair, so when he sits down- _bam_!" A sneaky smile twisted across her lips. "Down goes Morgan."

Reid felt the urge to back away slowly, but instead he said as casually as possible, "Isn't that a little harsh? It was just a Pop Tart."

Whatever smile on Adriana's face flitted off instantly. She exclaimed, "'_Just a Pop Tart_'? It was my lastPop Tart, and it was _fudge_! The box had my name labeled on it, so it was _deliberately eaten_. That's legally theft!"

Reid's stomach suddenly plummeted as he remembered going through the break counter's pantry yesterday and miraculously finding a Pop Tart to satiate his hunger until lunch. It had been fudge flavored.

"Anyways," Adriana was still talking, "it's the principle of the thing. Morgan has to learn that he can't just take what was clearly labeled _Adriana Messers_. He needs to respect my property."

"And to do that, you have to cause him humiliation?" he clarified nervously.

"Exactly."

Reid nodded mutely and walked away to his desk, unsure of what to do. He couldn't tell her that it was him that ate the Pop Tart because, honestly, he was more than a little afraid of what she would do to him. If Morgan was going to be subjected to humiliation, he didn't want to think about what Messers would devise for himself. Instead, he sat silently, sort of hoping Morgan would be okay.

Adriana went to her desk too. Her trap all set, she sat primly poised, waiting for Morgan to arrive.

And he did, at his usual time. As soon as Morgan entered the room, both Adriana and Reid watched him intently. Adriana was hoping that he wouldn't drop his bag on the chair, Reid was hoping that he would.

"Hey guys," Morgan said, oblivious to his impending doom. He tossed his bag onto the floor, and Adriana sat excitedly on the edge of her seat, ready for her scheme to fall into place.

In a retrospectively unwise decision, he plopped down on the chair.

_Slam!_

The next second, a very bewildered Morgan was on the floor with the remains of his violated chair.

"What the hell?" He scrambled up and rubbed his bruised lower back. He looked all around him, scanning everyone in his vision for a sign of laughter or mockery.

Adriana got off her chair and walked blithely to Morgan, swinging her arms and smiling with satisfaction. "Now that you've learned your lesson, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Reid squirmed in his seat.

"For what?" Morgan demanded.

"You stole my Pop Tart! I found the wrapper in your trash can!"

"What? No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

Reid finally spoke up, his guilty conscience weighing out. "Uh…Adriana?"

She whipped around.

"Um, that wasn't Morgan who stole it…" he nervously choked out. He cleared his throat. "It-it was me."

Adriana paused a moment, and turned to Morgan. "I'm very sorry," she said obligatorily. When she faced Reid again, her expression turned cold and sinister. "You'll regret that, Reid." She strode away, already scheming up an even better revenge plot.

Reid gulped.

Morgan, despite his supreme irritation and back pain, laughed a little and imagined the horrible consequences that Reid provoked. He clapped him on the back and wished him, "Good luck, man. You'll need it."

**…**

Prentiss squatted down to the floor and regarded the girl sitting there, loading darts into the cartridge of a dart gun. "Why are you even doing this? You know you're being ridiculous, right?"

"He ate my Pop Tart, Emily! Without permission!" Adriana cried.

"Uh-huh," Prentiss said disbelievingly. "Have you considered that you _like_ fighting with him?"

Adriana rolled her eyes. "Why would I like fighting with Reid? That sounds like a waste of time and energy." She snapped the ammunition load into the gun's holding with a tight snap.

"Says the girl holding a toy gun," Prentiss smirked sardonically.

"It is not a toy!" Adriana protested. "This," she stroked its side lovingly, "is the Nerf Barricade RV-10. It is the best dart gun _ever_. It will also help me destroy Reid."

"Where'd you get that thing anyway?"

"Evidence locker," Adriana said flippantly. "According to its tag, some idiot tried to smuggle cocaine in it."

Prentiss quirked her eyebrows at it. "Um, are you sure there isn't any coke in it now?" she inquired.

Adriana evidently did not care about the possibility of narcotic residue in her weapon because she sprang to her feet and hoisted the gun jauntily. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to kill a wretched, lying deceiver right now. I'll see you later!" And the young agent pranced away.

Prentiss shook her head tiredly. Messers needed to wake up soon and learn that all this fooling around, all this hysterical play-fighting, was just covering up something deeper. Sometime soon, she'd need to face that.

For now, though, Prentiss wasn't going to miss out on Reid getting attacked by an insane girl with a dart gun for anything.

**…..**

Hotch headed back to his desk, drained. His voice was somewhat hoarse from the loud reprimanding he just had to give to two supposedly mature adults. He had difficulty reminding himself that they were supposed to be adults when Adriana kept beaming triumphantly at her victory, and Reid kept rubbing the bright red mark in the middle of his forehead and glaring at Adriana.

To be fair, only she was the instigator this time, but unfortunately this had not been their first mishap. Previously, Hotch had to tell them off for arguing too loudly, setting off more of Reid's "physics magic" rockets, or dissembling the coffee machine (even though they claimed they were trying to improve it). He was seriously considering administering a drug test for Messers. Or anger management.

_A dart gun for god's sake…_

Hotch had just pulled himself back to his paperwork when there was a knock at his door. He wasn't expecting anybody, so he gave a confused, "Come in," to the visitor.

A broad-shouldered man of medium height entered. "Unit Chief Hotchner?" he asked.

"Yes, that's me," Hotch answered.

The man approached him cordially. "It's nice you finally be able to meet you. I'm SSA Unit Chief Mark Dobson." He extended his hand.

Hotch recognized the name. He stood and shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you, too. You worked with SSA Messers, didn't you?" He gestured towards the chair in front of him. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," Dobson replied. He sat and said, "Yes, I worked with Adriana in Missing Persons. She was just Agent Messers then."

"Have you come by to visit her?" Hotch asked. "She's working downstairs."

_Unless she's managed to get her hands on some nuclear weapons by now…_

"No, no," Dobson said. "I'm just here to see how you're finding her to be."

Hotch wondered why he hadn't seen her yet. "She's been a very productive and useful member of our team these six months. It took a while, but I believe she's made a full transition."

"Well, that's good. I'm glad she's serving you well."

"She's a good agent. I'm sure you were sad to see her go."

"Yes… I was." Dobson looked at Hotch curiously. "Do you know why she left?" he asked, sounding like he was testing him.

"I thought you would," Hotch replied. "The only reason her papers gave was that it was voluntary."

He nodded. "That's right. She never told why, though. I assumed a case hit her too hard." His voice was light. "But she sounds like she's doing fine with you."

"You can talk to her now, you know. She's not that busy," Hotch reminded him.

"Yes, I'll be sure to on my way out," Dobson said. "It was nice meeting you."

Agent Dobson shook Hotch's hand once more and left. He went down and moved through the bull pen quickly, throwing a sidelong look at Adriana's back.

Twenty feet away, Adriana stiffened. She saw him out the corner of her eye and felt icy fear grip her by the throat. Her breath caught in her chest, and a cold shudder suddenly shook her frame.

Reid noticed. "Hey, Adriana, are you okay?"

She averted her eyes down to her lap. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said absently in a very small voice. She forced her well-trained hands to stop shaking and picked up the pen she dropped.

The visitor left without saying a word to Adriana.

* * *

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A/N: Review if you like Pop Tarts! (Of course, no one likes them as much as Adriana)

Guys, once again I want to thank you all for reading and reviewing and putting up with my insane story. It really means so much to me that people continue reading. Please continue this miraculous trend!

Songs Listened: Kiss With A Fist- Florence & The Machine (haha no idea why this song occurred to me now of all places)

Next Chapter: A stunning new development!

Nuwanda31- thanks x how much I want that Nerf gun

In fact, you know what, guys? If you get me that Nerf gun, I will write the craziest, smuttiest sex between them, I promise. It'll be on a moon-bounce, in space, whatever. I'll even take requests! JUST GET ME THAT GUN.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: This chapter is something I've planned since the very beginning. I couldn't wait to write it! It's mostly just conversation, really, but it's important. **

**And so it begins…**

**Disclaimer: GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT GET ME OUT**

* * *

Reid was packing up to go home on a normal Thursday evening. Everyone had already gone home; the bullpen felt different without its normal bustle of activity and conversation. He shouldered his bag and was about to leave when he noticed a single file tucked away in his in-box.

Reid checked its name, and it read _Sawyers, NH- 11/10_. That was odd. Messers was supposed to have done files from letters R-U.

_She probably forgot this one_, he thought. He wondered if he could find out where she lived so he could drop off the file before going home. Unfortunately, Garcia had already left so he couldn't ask her to simply look up the information.

He looked for any clue. At Adriana's desk, Reid spotted an issue of _Scientific American_ magazine left behind. He mentally commended her choice in reading material when he realized it was exactly what he needed. In what was probably a total invasion of her privacy, he copied down the address printed on its cover. The address indicated she didn't live too far from him, so he decided to drop off the file directly to her. Reid started to leave the BAU, but on second thought, he retrieved the magazine from her desk. He didn't want anyone else to find out her private information so easily.

Twenty-five minutes later, he was jogging up the fourth flight of stairs in Adriana's apartment building. He was panting slightly as he finally reached her door, 4A. He knocked on it. A beat later, Adriana slid aside the locks and pulled open the door.

"Reid?" she said. Her surprise made her forget common courtesy. "What're you doing here?" she asked bluntly.

Reid couldn't answer right away. He tried not to gape at her appearance, but she looked so…different. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail with tendrils falling into her wide eyes, and she was clad in only a deep purple tank-top and small plaid shorts that looked more like pajama bottoms. He blinked rapidly, seeing much more of her skin than he was accustomed to. She stood barefoot, and Reid wondered how he could have failed to notice that she was only a few inches shorter than him. Her legs were longer than they seemed.

Remembering his voice, he stuttered, "I um, I brought you this," and handed her the file. "You forgot it on my desk."

"Yeeaahh…I 'forgot' it," she smiled sarcastically. "It must've happened when I dropped it in _your_ box."

He eyed her shrewdly. "Did Morgan tell you to do that?"

"He said you wouldn't notice," she replied sheepishly.

Reid half-nodded, but didn't reply. They stood awkwardly at her doorway for a moment, unsure of what to say to each other.

"Uh, have a good night," he said finally, jamming his hands in his pockets and starting to turn away.

"Yeah, you too," Adriana said lamely.

He was about to open the door to the stairs when Adriana called, "Reid, wait!"

He glanced back.

"Um…" Adriana had no idea why she stopped him. But it didn't matter now, he was looking at her strangely! She wildly invented an excuse.

"Can you taste something for me?"

"Wh-what?"

Before Adriana figured out why that question made Reid jolt in surprise, she grabbed his forearm and pulled him into her apartment.

"See, I always cook for myself," she explained as she dragged him across the threshold. "And I usually eat a lot of really spicy food. Now, I've been wondering if I permanently screwed up my taste buds, so I want you to taste my normal food and tell me if it's actually spicy. Of course, I could be just going insane…"

Reid didn't pay much attention to her rambling. He was concentrating more on not tripping over his own feet while she pulled him to her kitchen.

"I, uh, I don't think I'm the best judge of this," he mumbled. Adriana just ignored him and opened the lid of a pot. Inside, a simmering red sauce was cooking. Adriana spooned some out and motioned for Reid to try it.

Reid hesitated, still unsure of how he ended up here- in the kitchen of the teammate he knew the least. The whole thing was happening too fast to process. Adriana impatiently shoved the spoon toward his mouth, and he obligingly tasted.

Adriana watched his reaction carefully. "So?" she pressed.

"It's really good," Reid said in mild surprise.

Adriana tasted it for herself and shook her head. "Needs more oregano," she disagreed. As she pulled out spices and more utensils, she quickly got absorbed in cooking and practically forgot Reid standing right next to her.

Reid backed out of the kitchen and took the opportunity to look around her apartment. The kitchen led directly into the living room, easily the largest room in place. That wasn't saying much, though. The entire apartment was miniscule. Even Reid could afford a bigger place.

The apartment did not try to be what it wasn't, though. The square-shaped living room was decorated simply, furnished with a normal television, couch, and table. There was an orderly, but well-stocked bookshelf on the wall separating the kitchen and living room. As he took a closer look, Reid was surprised to see that all of them were textbooks or reference books of some kind. He expected mounds of fiction novels. Peering closer at them, he saw that most were about psychology and anthropology. A smattering were about art history, and there was neat row of seven thick volumes that all read "Neuroscience Review."

Just then, something brushed up against his leg. Reid jolted and saw a large orange cat contentedly rubbing against him. It looked up at him with round, yellow eyes and squawked out, "Merroww!" Reid edged away. While he didn't dislike cats, something about them made him uncomfortable. It was probably their penetrating eyes. The cat followed him, oblivious to his discomfort, and continued to purr loudly. It was like the Reid Effect in reverse.

Glancing around the book case, he saw Adriana going about around her kitchen. She was completely distracted in another endeavor, and Reid watched her fascinatedly. Looking so domestic, she busily replaced ingredients on her stove, hopped to her refrigerator, and back again.

It was so strange to see her like this. Reid had seen her grown comfortable at the BAU, but he'd never seen her more relaxed. Her movements around the small kitchen were sure and graceful; her very steps were light, but confident. He tried to reconcile the agent he knew and worked with to this girl who was literally dancing around her home, but it was hard. They didn't even look the same to Reid. The agent he knew wore neat, pressed, and plain-colored clothing. She wore her hair up and spoke carefully in public. This girl…wasn't wearing much at all, to be honest. He hypnotically followed the graceful twirl of her lean, almost bare legs across her kitchen.

Reid suddenly felt intrusive with his spying and turned away, flustered. His cheeks were flaring up for some reason.

He crossed the living room and went up to a door that lead to what he knew had to be the apartment's only other room. It was a room he was anxious to profile. Behind him, the orange cat followed, its long and bushy tail lazily swinging with each padded step.

Not sure what to expect, Reid pushed aside the door carefully. He cautiously peeked over his shoulder to check if Adriana spotted him. She hadn't, so he slipped in and closed the door behind him. Reid smiled as soon as he saw the inside. It was at once exactly and nothing at all like he pictured. One thing he was sure of, though, was that the room was singularly Adriana's.

It was compact and cozy. Forest green covered the walls smoothly, making the whole room seem rounded instead of square. He looked up and saw that her ceiling had glow-in-the-dark stars meticulously oriented towards the winter sky constellations. If he stretched far enough, he could touch Orion's belt. Her bed jutted out from the wall, and its blue sheets were covered with several bright, oddly-patterned quilts. Against the shortest wall stood a massive bookcase outfitted in dark-paneled wood and with what looked like hundreds of books. _It's directly across from her bed so it's the first and last thing she sees_, he noted. _She treasures it. _

Unable to help himself for much longer, Reid looked at the long lines of books. They were not at all as neatly arranged as the textbooks in the living room. Brightly colored novel backs leapt out from the parade, but Reid investigated the older, more care-worn books. She had leather-bound works by Dickens, an entire shelf devoted to Isaac Asimov, the obvious set of Harry Potter books, and dozens of Ray Bradbury collections. He looked further and saw that she even had books in other languages, like the works of Dumas and Rostand in French and Pushkin in the original Russian. He pulled out several books, their spines soft and creased with use. The cover of her volume of Poe's work was falling apart, and her copy of _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea_ was held together by tape. Reid smiled when he saw Proust in there as well, remembering when his mother used to read to him.

Looking around the room, he saw even more books stacked randomly around the room and on her bed. By the way the books rested around her blankets, he guessed she fell asleep reading them. The large orange cat was lounging on a copy of _Dune_. On the adjacent wall, there was a normal-looking dresser. Reid crossed the room, hoping that there were some personal affects he could examine. All he found was a brush, her wallet, and her iPod, which he wisely decided against touching.

Reid took another look around the room, noticing for the first time how bare it actually was. Besides the multitudes of books, there wasn't anything really personal scattered around. No girly trinkets like Garcia's. No clothes strewn around. No pictures of friends or family. None even of herself.

He spied a cardboard box in the corner of the room by her bed, and went to rifle through it. Framed and stacked neatly in it was her all diplomas and degrees, ranging from high school to her Masters in Psychology. But they were shoved away in a box in a corner. Was she trying to hide them?

Reid didn't get a chance to find out, though.

"Am I interrupting?" floated Adriana's cross voice.

Reid spun around and saw her standing by her door, balancing two plates of food in her hands and looking very pissed.

"What're you doing in myroom?" she demanded angrily.

He recoiled from her livid tone and sputtered, "Uh, I was just, uh, going to-"

"Profile me? I bet that's what you were doing, wasn't it?"

"No! I was just looking at your books and-"

"Trying to profile me," Adriana repeated angrily. "Admit it, that's what you were trying to do."

Reid shifted guiltily, her scrutinizing glare burning into him. "Sorry," he apologized, even though profiling her wasn't his real intention. He just wanted to know more about her.

He stood there, paralyzed by her scowling and his shame, until he realized he should probably leave the room while she wasn't angry enough to attempt anything violent. The plates she was holding could easily be made into effective weapons.

"I think you need to leave now," Adriana said stonily.

Reid nodded obediently and left the room. His face was burning with embarrassment. She followed behind him and set down the plates of food she was holding on the table.

Reid went to the door and put a hand to the doorknob.

"Wait."

Surprised, he turned around and was taken aback by the look on Adriana's face. She looked angry, obviously, but underneath that she looked _hurt_.

Reid instantly felt a million times worse.

She sighed, a conflicted expression sliding over her features. She was mad, extremely mad, and hurt at Reid for invading her room…but she was more afraid of him leaving with the notion that she was hiding something.

"I thought you were going to stay for dinner?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Reid was very confused at this turn-around. "You told me to leave," he explained.

"I meant my room, Reid, not my house."

He looked at her questioningly. "Really? You want me to stay?"

"Well, I already made all this food," she waved a hand at the plates. "So I'm going to need help eating it." She handed him a plate. "Here, take it."

Still looking puzzled, Reid took the plate and sat on the couch, folding one gangly leg underneath him. The food looked delicious, and he couldn't remember the last time he ate a home-cooked meal. Weeks maybe. He started eating with a gusto that made Adriana snicker.

"Hey, have you seen Erwin anywhere?" she asked.

Reid swallowed a comically large mouthful of food before he could ask, "Erwin?"

"My cat," she clarified. "The big, orange monstrosity that tries to drive me insane."

"Uh… in your room, I think," he said, remembering the cat lying on her bed. "Why'd you name him Erwin?"

She actually grinned. "You don't know?" she said a little tauntingly. "It's after someone famous…"

Reid shrugged, not eager to guess when there was still delicious food on his plate. He went back to eating.

"It's after Schrödinger," she relented. "Rumor has it that the cat he used was orange and stripy."

Reid didn't really understand. "You do know he poisoned that cat, right?"

Adriana looked put out. "I like the name Erwin, okay? It suits him."

Reid didn't really know anything about suitable pet names, so he figured nodding was an appropriate answer. They stopped talking. Another silence descended on them, but it was a comfortable silence where neither of them felt pressured to talk.

Reid glanced at her again. She was sitting cross-legged across the couch from him, and she was eating with a funny look of concentration on her face. She was probably scrutinizing her food for accidental spiciness. It was sort of…cute.

Adriana noticed his staring. "What?" she asked. _Do I have something on my face?_

"N-nothing! I, uh, just…" He switched trains of thought. "Did you know that Isaac Asimov published something in every major category of the Dewey Decimal System except Philosophy?"

"Um, what?"

"You like his books, right?" Reid was searching for a conversation topic.

Adriana didn't know how that had to do with anything they were talking about previously, but she answered, "Yeah, I do. I've read almost all of his fictions."

He smiled. "I've read all of his works."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, the ability to read over five hundred books usually comes with the ability to read over 20,000 words per minute, so excuse me for not having that particular gift."

Reid wondered if he offended her. He offered shyly, "I have the Foundation series on audio…maybe you'd want to borrow it sometime?"

Adriana smiled and guessed that this was his way of trying to appease her. "I'd like that. But the Robot series is better."

"What?" Reid gasped. "Are you kidding? Foundation is so much better!"

It took absolutely no motivation to argue with him. "The Robot series had an actual impact on our culture!" she exclaimed. "Foundation is great and all, but it never had as much influence as Robot. Plus, it gets kinda boring at times."

"Boring?"

An intense debate predictably ensued. Everything tense about the mood instantly dissolved. They were their quarrelsome selves again.

When the argument eventually died down, Adriana reflected how nice it felt to actually have someone in her house. She couldn't remember the last time she had a friend over.

And she thought about how nice if this could happen again. So after getting over her hesitation, she eventually asked, "Reid…um…do you maybe come over again next week?"

He wasn't sure if he heard her right. "Even after I invaded your privacy?"

"Well, I might forgive you if you bring over those audio books," she dealed. "And promise to never do it again, of course."

He did both.

**…..**

She never told anyone he came over.

It wasn't like it was embarrassing or secretive. It wasn't like that at all. If anyone had asked about her activities, she would have answered truthfully that she hung out with Reid, and they had dinner. It was no big deal. There was absolutely nothing to hide.

But nobody asked, so she never shared.

Friday came. Reid and Adriana didn't mention their evening with each other or anyone else, but when they smiled good-morning at each other over coffee, it was with a new layer of familiarity. A new layer of intimacy.

Thursday evenings became theirs.

* * *

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A/N: Review if you liked their weird quasi-date-thing!

And so begins the saga of their sexual tension. It's going to be a loooooong ride, guys.

Next chapter: I'm going to do something very very evil, and you will all probably hate me for it.

Where I stand on the whole Foundation/Robot debate: I agree with Reid. Foundation is so much more awesome than Robot.

Nuwanda31- thanks x how dorky the two of them are


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Ok, after my foray into Mark Gordon's mind *shudders* I've decided to stick to a more traditional route- the law. So watch out, Gordon. I'm going to assemble a crack team of lawyers who will finally win me the CM rights. And everything will be nice and legal.**

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"_Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities."_ –C.S. Lewis

**...**

Since then, it became their ritual. Neither one were quite sure how it happened, but after work every Thursday he would show up at her apartment with a bashful look, and every Thursday she would surprise herself by always inviting him in. After a couple of weeks they even developed a comfortable routine. Reid would come inside, they would chat about whatever case they were currently working, eat, and then fall to watching movies or reading. Or arguing.

"No, the T'raltixx appeared in season three," she stated, folding her arms crossly. "You're just too stubborn to admit that I'm right."

"Adriana, I have an eidetic memory. I'm positive that it was season two."

"Well I'm _positive_ that you're wrong."

Their arguments usually dissolved in one of them laughing and gloating over a trivial victory, while the other (usually Adriana) kicked them in the shins. Reid's shins were starting get a multi-colored array of bruises, but somehow, he didn't mind.

The second time he came over, he learned that she was even nerdier than she outwardly appeared to be. It happened when she offered Reid coffee and he told her that he took it with sugar. As she got up, she murmured reminiscently, "'Black as the devil, sweet as a stolen kiss.'"

The phrase sounded familiar to Reid. He frowned as he tried to place the obscure passage. "Do you speak Polish?" he asked, remembering that it was an ethnic saying.

"No, but you're close," Adriana smiled encouragingly. She prepared the coffee and wrinkled her nose with distaste when she put in the extra sugar for Reid. She preferred her coffee black.

It took him a few moments of scanning the repositories of his brain until he placed it. "Have you read _Watchmen_?" he inquired hopefully.

"Cool, you got it. That was, like, a really random sentence," she said, mildly impressed that he remembered it. But then again, the eidetic memory didn't let him forget much.

"So you read comic books?" he said interestedly.

"I prefer to call them 'graphic novels,'" she said with mock-snobbishness. She brought the coffee back to where they were sitting on the couch.

"But I didn't see any in your room," Reid said, referring to the comics

Her eyes narrowed. "Yeah, because you'd know all about my room, wouldn't you?" She added under her breath, "Sneak."

Reid still felt bad about that, but he was really curious to see what comics she read. "Can I see them?" he asked shyly.

Adriana glanced at him suspiciously. "Are you going to try to profile me again?"

"I promise I won't," Reid swore solemnly.

She deliberated thoughtfully, considering that she would be willingly letting him into her room this time. Her room was like her sanctuary. It was hers to hole up in the feigned safety of her bed. The tears on her pillows and the crumpled blankets from nightmares made the room into a fortress. In it, she was safe. No one and nothing could penetrate it. That was why she freaked out when she found him inspecting her room like evidence.

But then again… it was Reid. He hadn't done anything last time, and, under her supervision, he wouldn't touch anything he wasn't supposed to.

"Fine," she conceded.

They went into her room, and Adriana magically pulled out her numerous boxes of comics from under her bed. It wasn't that she was embarrassed enough to hide them; she just had nowhere else in her tiny room to put them. There were so many boxes, Reid didn't know how they fit under there.

She opened up one for their perusal. It contained about fifty slim comic books, all in clear plastic dividers.

"Nice," Reid said appreciatively, leafing through the very organized box. He saw she had an affinity for Jack Kirby and Alan Moore.

"Careful," she warned, "I have some collectors' issues in there. I keep the big volumes in the other boxes." With great precision, she plucked out her favorite issue of _The Amazing Spider-Man_, and settled her back against her bed to read it.

Reid carefully took one out and made to copy her position, sitting cross-legged. He looked over, and saw that she was already immersed in reading. It greatly amused and impressed him that she was actually a huge nerd and didn't attempt to hide it, like himself.

They sat on the hard floor, reading in silence for hours until the sunlight disappeared.

**…**

He learned that she had much different musical tastes than he would have ever expected. One day, she let him in and immediately Reid's ears were assaulted by heavy drumbeats and insanely loud guitar chords. The pounding, shrieking lyrics of the song almost made him take a step back.

He fought the urge to cover his ears and shouted, "You listen to metal?"

Adriana grinned and mercifully turned down the music. "Yup, I love it."

He gave her a skeptical look. She didn't look at all like those people who listen to heavy metal. Those people he associated with all-black clothes and piercings and criminal records.

Adriana picked up his unspoken opinion and sighed in exasperation, "It's true! I've always listened to it."

Lifting his eyebrows, "I think I'll stick to Beethoven, thanks."

"Beethoven?" Adriana scoffed. "Seriously? Bach is ten times better a composer."

Affronted, he proceeded to give her a point-by-point analysis of how the primary and secondary themes in Beethoven's symphonies that appear in set algebraic patterns usher in the reprise of the C-minor scherzo theme in many of his works. In Bach's defense, Adriana countered that at least his music hadn't been used for human conditioning on psychopaths. Yet another Clockwork Orange reference that passed Reid by.

Reid learned what her real laugh sounded like. Once, he tripped over a snag in her rug and almost fell on his face. She threw her head back and gave a genuine belly laugh that shook her whole torso. It snorted out of her mouth and then just exploded in hysterical giggles. Adriana was always embarrassed of her laugh because she thought it made her look like a complete spaz. While this was partially true, Reid observed that it also made her whole face brighten with joy.

He learned that when she talked about things she was truly passionate about, her eyes would alight with a sort of fire that he had never seen in them before. Her speech would speed up to a-mile-a-minute, and there would be no stopping her for anything.

"I mean, just imagine the intricate operations that occur in the space of one second in the basic cell!" she enthused. One of her hands was in the air, making excited gestures, while the other was bunched up in her hair, making it tangled and wild-looking. It matched the look on her face. They had been talking about the human genome project about ten minutes ago, but somehow they veered off topic. Now, Adriana was practically babbling about microbiology theorems.

"The Endosymbiotic theory provides for all of that, _and_ the evolutionary aspects of cellular structure. It's actually amazing that it wasn't accepted back in 1905. Of course, the technology wasn't nearly advanced enough to yield conclusive enough evidence, but the theoretical applications could have at least been used to establish parameters for future research…"

Of course, Reid already knew all about the Endosymbiotic theory and its consequences. For some reason, though, he let her ramble on. He liked that she found seemingly commonplace things so fascinating. It reminded him of himself a little. Reid found that it felt nice to know that someone else found stuff like that interesting as well. But it was the excited look on her face that made him reluctant to say a word. That was the thing that stayed burned into his memory when he went home that day. He was unable, and sort of…. unwilling, to remove the image of her eyes alight with wonder and enthrallment.

And after about a month and a half of Thursday nights, he learned why she didn't have any pictures of her family.

**…**

"Hey, why does this have your name on it?"

The question, asked so casually, made Adriana start up so suddenly that her heart faltered in its steady beat. In a panicky and desperate move, she quickly snatched the folder right out of his hands. He couldn't have seen anything in it, but she still clutched it tight and scurried away until she was across the room from him.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to say smoothly, "Curiosity killed the cat, you know." Her shaking voice did nothing to conceal her trepidation.

"'The greatest virtue of man is perhaps curiosity,'" Reid quoted and came a little closer to her, drawn to the mystery of the file.

"Anatole France?" Adriana guessed, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Reid didn't fall for it. "Why does it have your name on it?" he asked again. "Does it have something to do with a case you worked on?"

"Sort of…" she started to answer before checking herself. "I mean, it's nothing. Nothing at all." She was entirely unconvincing.

"Why can't you tell me? I thought friends share information about each other."

Adriana glared at him, angry that he used the _friends _card. She couldn't believe that Reid might actually be taking advantage of their friendship just to pry a little more into her life. "Because I don't want to talk about it, ok? My file is completely uninteresting, and frankly, none of your goddamn business."

_Her file?_ He took in her defensive tone and the way she held the file protectively. What was she trying to keep from him?

Reid wasn't sure why he was suddenly so desperate to delve into something that obviously upset her. Usually if someone told him to lay off as strongly as Adriana had, he would respect their request. But seeing the file on her table labeled with her name made him afraid that something happened to her, and he had to know what it was.

"What if I tell you about me?" Reid tried bargaining.

"What?"

"I'll tell you anything you want to know about me."

"Really?" Adriana asked disbelievingly. She knew Reid to be a pretty private person. She couldn't see him divulging his deep, dark secrets just to listen to her sordid story.

But he nodded and said, "I promise."

Adriana paused and deliberated. He had kept his last promise to her; he hadn't profiled her room when she let him in. And it would be a lie to say that she wasn't interested in learning more about Reid. She suspected he had to have had an interesting life, what with being a genius and all. On the other hand, she worked so hard all the time to keep her secrets hidden within her, firmly locked away. She didn't know if she could just tell everything to him now.

Reid himself didn't know what possessed him to basically promise his entire life's story just so he could learn whatever was haunting her in that file.

Adriana looked into Reid's face. It was so sincere and devoid of any sign of unkindness. She didn't know why, but she trusted him. It was completely illogical, considering that she knew she shouldn't trust anyone really, but she did nonetheless. Besides, she reasoned, he could easily ask Garcia to check into it, and she didn't want him to find out that way. So against her better judgment, against every fiber of her being, really, she said:

"Ok, but I have three conditions." She held up a finger as she listed them. "One, you will tell me your stuff first. Two, if I decide it doesn't match my story in-" she tried to think of a word, "…um, personal-ness, I can revoke my pledge to tell you anything."

It all sounded reasonable so far. "What's the third condition?" Reid asked cautiously.

With that question, Adriana went into the kitchen and poked around in the pantry cabinets. Pulling it out from the very back of a shelf, she turned to Reid, grimly holding a full bottle of tequila.

"My third condition is that I'm not going to be sober for this."

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A/N: Ok, there's good news and bad news.

Good news: Next chapter is the one in which Adriana's past will finally be revealed! You'll finally learn about her family and what is inside the mysterious case file!

Bad News: I'm going on vacation for a month, and I won't have internet access the whole time. So… Uh. See you in a month, guys?

PLEASE DON'T HATE ME

Nuwanda31- thanks x how much I'll miss you (ie A LOT)


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